


He's good at these things

by nottinghamroad



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Angst, Baby Fic, Babyfic, First Time, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 35,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3932470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottinghamroad/pseuds/nottinghamroad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt found a baby in a dumpster. Foggy knows how to take care of babies much better than Matt does.</p><p>Please note: violence comes briefly in chapter 7 and will rear its head again as we progress through the trial of Wilson Fisk and further descriptions of what he's done. I'll warn appropriately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baby in a dumpster

**Author's Note:**

> Well this just sort of...happened. Posting what I have for now, though I am in finals so we'll see how fast it goes. ;) If you like it though, comment and let me know because it's good motivation to continue. 
> 
> also let it be known that i ship literally every possible ship in Daredevil....it was just mattfoggy that came to me in this fic.

Matt Murdock had never doubted his senses before. 

But he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Soft whimpers intermingled with piercing cries and a faint, powdery smell were telling him there was a _baby_ nearby. And the powdery smell was faint, to be sure. It was masked by an overwhelming scent of urine and garbage and Matt was _not_ hearing and smelling a _baby_ right now. 

He moved in the direction of the cries. The baby’s scent grew more distinct the closer he got. Matt bumped up against a dumpster and the baby’s cries echoed with the impact. Great. A baby in a dumpster. They had a lot in common already. He rooted gently around for the child until his hands met soft (if grimy) skin. Feet. Those were definitely the feet. He made his way up until he found the kid’s head and supported it while lifting it out of the dumpster. A bit of fumbling with the baby’s position against him revealed that the child was, in fact, a girl, and she had no clothes. 

Matt took off his jacket and wrapped the baby in it as best as he could manage, feeling around to be sure he hadn’t covered her face. An indignant cry as he poked her in the eye told him her face was, in fact, uncovered. At least he wasn’t going to smother the child. He held her close to his chest, muffling her cries against his t shirt until he reached the office. 

_______

“Matthew.” Foggy heard the door open to the office, but stayed with his back to it to look out the window. “The sunset is _beautiful_ tonight. Lots of red and pink and it’s times like these when I’m glad you’re blind because you have to listen to my artistic renditions of nighttime.” He spun around in the chair to face Matt. 

“Foggy,” Matt began, but Foggy cut him off. 

“I may have had quite a lot of cheap vodka just now, but I don’t think it makes people hallucinate. Does it make people hallucinate? Have you ever hallucinated? Can you even hallucinate?” He was rambling now, but the thought was interesting and distracting him from what could definitely not be a _living child_ in Matt’s arms. 

“Kind of, but it’s complicated. Foggy, I found this--”

“You found a _baby_?” Foggy refocused on what was in front of him, and on how awkwardly Matt was holding the baby. The baby was nearly sideways, and the poor thing had no room to breathe, pressed flush up against Matt’s chest. It probably wasn’t even a soft chest, either, it was probably a hard and well-muscled chest. But that was just speculation on Foggy’s part. Either way, he knew that of the two bodies in the room, his was the more comfortable for a baby to be held against. 

“She was in a dumpster,” Matt explained. “I heard her crying and she doesn’t have any clothes and I couldn’t leave her there, so I-” he shrugged. Foggy shook his head and leapt up from the chair. 

“Give her to me,” he ordered, forcing the slur out of his words. “Give her to me. You’re holding her all wrong.” Matt obliged, and Foggy put one hand underneath the baby’s legs and another on her head and held her to his chest, so she could see over his shoulder. 

“Did she just coo at you? I think she just cooed.” Matt sounded disgruntled. The baby cooed again. 

“What can I say, the babes love me.” Foggy instinctively started bouncing lightly up and down on the balls of his feet in an attempt to further calm the baby. For being found in a dumpster, she was surprisingly calm. She blew raspberries into Foggy’s ear at a steady pace until she tired of it and laid her tiny head on Foggy’s shoulder. He had a hard time not melting at that. “She just laid her head on my shoulder,” Foggy informed Matt. 

“I was wondering what that contented little sigh was for,” he answered. Still sounded disgruntled. He folded his arms, staring off into a direction that was just to the left of Foggy. Foggy noticed the level of grime on Matt’s glasses (presumably from the dumpster) and supported the baby with one arm to take the glasses off of his friend’s face. 

“You’re jealous because you don’t get to have a sleepy baby on your shoulder right now. It’s one of the best feelings there is.” He walked to the bathroom and set Matt’s glasses in the sink to wash them later. 

“You know I can’t actually see out of my glasses, right Foggy?” Matt called patiently from the other room. 

“Hate to see you grimy, buddy. Makes me think no one is feeding you at home.” Foggy came back into the main office, and a tiny snore tells him the baby girl has fallen asleep. 

“I can actually cook,” Matt pointed out. 

“Yeah, mac and cheese and the odd stir fry. Forgive me if I don’t think your habits are especially gourmet.” 

“Is the baby asleep?” 

“How can you tell?” Foggy should know these things by now, how Matt operates with his super-senses and all. But it still held interest, and besides, Matt’s voice got this smooth quality to it when he’s explaining things that Foggy liked. 

“Her heartbeat. It was going nuts when I first picked her up, probably because of the whole dumpster thing. But it’s steady now. Less….all over the place.” Matt waved his hands in a noncommittal gesture. 

“Poor thing. All alone without a onesie or anything. You were probably chilly in there, weren’t you, Dolly? Well, it’s alright now. We’ll get you something cute to wear tomorrow, and you’ll be the toast of Hell’s Kitchen. Me and Matt will have to fight the boys off you. Or girls. I’m sure we’ll end up fighting everyone. Matty’s good at those things.” Foggy spoke quietly to the baby, and looked up after a moment to see Matt chuckling lightly at him, a smile Foggy didn’t see very often decorating his expression. 

“You’re good at this,” Matt observed. “Babies.” 

“She probably was cold!” Foggy defended himself. “And cold is just about the worst thing a baby can be! And we should find her a onesie. Your jacket won’t cut it forever.”

“Are you going to call her Dolly now?” 

“It’s what I always called my nieces and nephews,” Foggy muttered. “But it fits her. Doesn’t it, Dolly?” He twisted his head to kiss her fat cheek. “She’ll need somewhere to sleep tonight.” Foggy stared around the office. An empty packing box caught his eye. He handed Dolly back to Matt for a moment while he lined the box with his own jacket, then retrieved her and laid her down inside the box. She fit perfectly, and didn’t stir once. 

“Are we keeping her, then?” Matt asked. 

“Are we keeping her? Murdock, you can’t bring an abandoned baby into our office and ask a question like that. Yes, we are keeping her. Unless we can find her parents, or something. But what else are we going to do, put her back in the dumpster?” Foggy clucked his disapproval and watched the baby sleep for a moment. 

He looked back up at Matt. His hazel eyes were vacant, as they always were. Unseeing though they might be, Foggy still liked to look at them. They were still pretty, and they set off the rest of his face, which was always so expressive. Right now it was wearing an affectionate demeanor that Foggy was a little apprehensive to read into too deeply because it was beyond Matt’s usual affection for him. There was something a little bit sad about his expression, about the way the crinkles around his eyes were forming as he smiled in the general direction of the baby. And that look made Foggy’s stomach do things. Stupid, flippy, high school things. 

It was going to be a long night.


	2. Babies don't sleep in boxes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt convinces Foggy to take the baby back to his apartment until morning. Foggy gives Dolly a bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's continuing..........god i love babyfic. 
> 
> Comments are the swamped writer's bread and butter. Let me know what you think! :D

“Foggy, we should at least take her to my place.” Matt had been trying to insist that Foggy get some rest for the past half an hour, but he wouldn’t. He had been softly talking to Dolly in a stream that was mainly nonsense, but Matt figured Foggy thought it was comforting to the _sleeping_ baby. Sleeping. She was asleep, and Foggy was still talking to her. 

“She’s sleeping, Matt,” Foggy’s voice was reproachful. “We can’t wake her up.” 

“You’ve been talking to her all this time and she hasn’t woken up. My place is a block away. Come on.” 

“Fine. But I’m carrying her. You were practically smothering her, poor thing.” The box scraped on the floor as Foggy picked it up. A moment passed and Matt felt Foggy take his arm. Apparently he was managing the baby-in-a-box with the other arm. 

“I can get to my apartment from the office, you know,” Matt pointed out. 

“Humor me, buddy.” 

They left the office together, and Foggy locked up behind them. The baby made a strange sort of squeaky noise as they walked down the hall arm-in-arm. 

“Is she okay?” 

“Dolly? She’s fine.” 

“She made a noise.” 

“Babies make noises, Matty. Part of the job description.” 

“Is she awake?” Matt could still sense a steady heartbeat emanating from the child, but he hadn’t spent nearly enough time around children to distinguish a sleeping and awake-but-calm heartbeat. 

“No. Still out. Probably having a bad dream or something, weren’t you, Dolly?” Foggy cooed at the baby. 

“Can babies even have bad dreams?” 

“Everyone has dreams.” Foggy tightened his grip on Matt’s arm as they went down a flight of stairs, Matt’s cane clicking rhythmically on each step. 

“But babies can’t talk.” 

“No, but they have all their other senses. They can still have dreams with scary sights and sounds.” Foggy’s voice was patient in his explanation, and surprisingly knowledgable. 

“How do you know so much about babies?” Matt asked. 

“My mom always took care of babies around the neighborhood. Kind of like a daycare, only she definitely wasn’t licensed.” Foggy chuckled at the memory. 

“And you helped her?” 

“Some kids had chores, I had baby duty.” 

“You liked it?” 

“What’s not to like?” 

“Babies are demanding.” Matt thought of Dolly’s angry cries earlier and shuddered at the thought of waking her up and hearing those cries again. 

“No more demanding than us. You can’t talk, can you Dolly?” Foggy was addressing the sleeping baby again. “So all you have is crying. And you do the best you can, but your options are kinda limited when your mouth doesn’t know how to make words yet, huh.” 

They walked the few minutes it took to get to Matt’s apartment in silence. Matt unlocked the place and Foggy found the lights. 

“This place is a wreck, Matty.” 

“Is it?” 

“Do you always fling your shirts across the couch like this?” Foggy’s footsteps fell heavily on his way into the living room. 

“Makes them easier to find.” Matt stood his cane up against the wall and felt his way into the living room to sit on one of the cushy chairs. 

“I’m on the couch with the baby, if you want to hold her.” Foggy told him. His distinct scent and the lumbering rhythm of his heartbeat were enough to give Matt a decent idea as to his position in space, but he appreciated the interfacing anyways. 

“I’ll probably just smother her again,” Matt said, but his tone was light. He reached up to massage his temples and realized his glasses weren’t there. “Dammit, Foggy, did you leave my glasses at the office again?”  
“Hmm? Oh, I guess I did. Sorry.” He didn’t sound very sorry. “Besides,” Foggy went on, “it’s nice to have your eyes make an appearance every once in awhile.” 

“They’re not good for anything.” 

“They’re nice to look at.” 

“What?”

“I said you have nice eyes, Murdock. Now will you please run to the corner store and see if they have diapers? Dolly can’t go on in our jackets forever.” Foggy’s voice was steady. His heartbeat was the same pace as it always was. But he just said Matt had nice eyes with no hesitation. Matt wasn’t sure what to make of that. Probably exhaustion. Yeah. Exhaustion. 

He nabbed a spare pair of sunglasses from his cabinet of extras on the way out the door.  
__________

Foggy decided Dolly should have a bath. She was starting to stir once Matt left the apartment, and with the stirring came the smell. Not a nice baby smell, either. He put a plug in Matt’s industrial-size sink and filled it with warm, soapy water. 

“Are you ready for a bath, Miss Dolly?” he asked the baby. She blinked up at him, big brown doe eyes wide and trusting. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, and lifted her from the box and into the sink. She gurgled happily as she sat in the water. It came up to her shoulders, so Foggy let out a little water in order for the level to be closer to her chest. He rooted around in Matt’s cupboards for something acceptable with which to wash a baby. 

“No, Comet is definitely not going to work,” he muttered. “You are not a dish, are you?” 

Dolly drooled. 

After a few minutes of searching, Foggy found some generic “gentle” hand soap. It would have to do for now. He rolled up his sleeves to the elbow. Dolly splashed at him. 

“Don’t you sass me, young lady. You don’t exactly smell like a basket of roses, and I won’t have a dirty baby in my house!” Foggy mock-chastised her, and lifted a handful of warm water over her head to get her hair wet. She didn’t have much hair to speak of, just a little, thin mop of brown silk that was sticking out in strange directions. 

“I’m going to give you a mohawk,” Foggy told her, and rubbed a dab of soap into her hair. He successfully made it stand up. “Hardcore.” Dolly looked at him, nonplussed. Foggy couldn’t help it. He took out his phone and snapped a photo of the baby with her hair sticking up. She was giving him a Look once he finished.  
“What?” he defended himself. “It’s not my fault you’re cute with all the bubbles around, okay?” Dolly squeaked. Foggy finished bathing her as best he could, and managed to get the grime off. He was toweling her dry when Matt returned from the corner store. 

“Fresh and clean,” Foggy was saying. “Like a brand new baby.” He kissed her forehead, and Dolly chattered at him. Matt laid down a package of Depends on the counter. Foggy eyed the adult diapers. “Matty, did they tell you these were baby diapers?” 

“It was all they had,” Matt said, taking off his spare glasses and laying them on the counter. “Although it’s not like I could tell if they were lying.” 

“Well, Hell’s Kitchen isn’t exactly a haven for young families,” Foggy said fairly. He looked at the diapers, then back at Dolly. She was fixated on the diapers as well, and then met his eyes as if to say This is the best you can do? “We’ll figure it out,” Foggy told her. 

“She likes you,” Matt remarked. Foggy blushed while he was opening the package of depends. He put Dolly’s legs through the leg holes, and the diaper went all the way up to her chest. 

“She’ll like anyone who takes care of her.” 

“No, she really likes you,” Matt insisted, and felt his way over to the couch to sit down. “Her heartbeat’s the slowest and steadiest I’ve heard it this whole time. She’s really comfortable with you.” 

“Flattery won’t work on me, Murdock.” Foggy rooted around in Matt’s drawers again for a few rubber bands. He gathered the excess material of the adult diaper to the side and fixed it there. The diaper still went up to Dolly’s chest, but at least now she wouldn’t fall out of it. 

“Just telling the truth.” Matt stretched out on the couch, and made a little noise of contentment in the back of his throat. Foggy tried to ignore the way the noise made his heart jump up a little. He lifted Dolly from her spot on the counter and brought her over to the couch. 

“Budge up, Matty.” Foggy sat on the edge of the couch just as Matt moved his legs. “Dolly is very good at sitting up. I think she’s probably around 8 months old.” Matt’s legs were now bent, but his feet were touching Foggy’s thigh. Not that Foggy minded. It was late. They were both tired. 

“8 months old, huh?” Matt yawned. “How are we going to find her family?” 

“We can go to the precinct tomorrow. See if--” Foggy yawned too. Damn yawns for being so contagious. “See if anyone’s lost a baby.” He looked down at Dolly on his lap. She had dozed off again. Matt’s feet were starting to dig into his thigh more, so Foggy looked over at him. Also asleep. 

He lifted Matt’s feet as gently as he could and put them on his lap. He then adjusted Dolly’s position so her legs were on top of Matt’s and her upper body was still resting against his. Then Foggy dozed off, because this was not a bad way to go to sleep.


	3. Babies love oatmeal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt cooks breakfast, and figures out if there's any missing children lately. Foggy makes Matt change a diaper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look.....Plot Approaches......
> 
> but not to worry, plenty plenty of fluff and eventual attainment of an M rating. 
> 
> Do let me know what you think, comments are magical things. :D

Matt woke up to the sound of Foggy’s snores. They were heaving and regular and underpinned by the sound of the baby’s (he supposed he ought to call her Dolly) phlegmy breathing. She sounded like she had some throat congestion. Matt supposed that really ought not to be surprising that she may have picked up a bug in the dumpster. 

He shifted, and felt tiny baby feet slip off of his legs. He shifted again, moving his feet delicately towards himself until he ascertained that his feet were in Foggy’s lap. He put them back and let his head fall back onto the pillow behind him. Right, time to take stock. Somebody at the police precinct would have to know if there was a missing baby. That would be something one would report. Foggy sounded deeply asleep, so Matt decided he would make a start on this particular fact-finding mission. 

But it was nice to be intertwined with the two of them like this. Dolly’s feet were now pressed up against Matt’s shin, and they twitched every so often. Maybe she was dreaming. Foggy’s thighs were soft and strong beneath Matt’s calves, not giving an inch under the weight on top of them. Solid, dependable Foggy. 

Matt smiled to himself at how naturally Foggy had taken to Dolly, at how quickly he had assessed and fulfilled her needs and how a spot in his heart immediately opened up for her. He was good like that. Good at letting people in and good at taking care of them. Matt asserted his independence around Foggy frequently, but it was leftovers from the nuns in Catholic school. Constantly telling him he couldn’t do things, when in reality he could do more than most of them combined. 

Foggy never assumed Matt was incapable, but took care of him anyways. It was Foggy’s idea to start a supply of spare sunglasses and canes for Matt as he was constantly losing his. Matt’s residual pride told him he should be able to do these things for himself, but it was just so endearing to have someone care about the smaller aspects of his well being the way Foggy did. Matt reasoned that it was discovering the sheer depth of Foggy’s capability for love that made him start to feel the stirrings of things beyond friendship. It was difficult not to feel, not when someone as selfless and loyal and as funny as Foggy was in his life. 

He had to stop with this pseudo-cuddling, as it was doing nothing to help keep those stirrings at bay. He slid his feet as gently as he could off of Foggy’s lap and rose to a seated position. Breakfast. Time to make something for Foggy and the baby when they woke up. What did babies even eat? Whether Dolly had teeth or not was a mystery yet to be solved, but even if she did, were babies supposed to have things like eggs? Matt figured he had probably learned something about this in high school biology, but none of it was coming back. 

Oatmeal could be good. You didn’t really need to chew that, it could just kind of go down. Probably a safe bet. He filled the kettle with water and switched it on. 

Karen. Karen. Karen. His phone chirped at him and Matt fished it out of his pocket.  
“Hello?” he answered, his voice hushed. 

“Matt? Are you okay?” Karen immediately sounded worried.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he reassured her, feeling his way out to the entryway and going out the door. “Just didn’t want to wake them up.” 

“Didn’t want to wake who up? Got a new girl over, or what?” Now Karen sounded sly. 

“No, no, Foggy spent the night.” Matt rubbed his chin.

“Wait, seriously? Wow, congratulations!” 

“No, he didn’t--we didn’t--it’s kind of a long story.” 

“I’m listening.” 

“I found a baby in a dumpster yesterday.” Matt figured it was no use trying to keep things from Karen, she was sharp and would find it out for herself soon enough. 

“Oh, my gosh! Is the baby okay?” 

“She’s fine. Not any thanks to me or anything. Foggy took care of her and didn’t want to leave her and my place was closer to the office than his, so we just crashed on the couch.” 

“ _We_ crashed on the couch?” 

“What exactly are you implying, Karen?” Matt realized his voice sounded a little terse, but the past twelve hours had been strange enough without Karen playing all coy. 

“Nothing,” she said innocently. “Not if there’s nothing going on.” 

“Just the baby.” He rubbed his chin again. “Why did you call?” 

“There’s talk of Fisk finally getting a trial date.” 

“Talk, or an actual date?” 

“Talk is better than what we’ve had over the past several months, which is radio silence. We’re one step closer to bringing Hell’s Kitchen’s resident scumbag to justice. Just wanted to share the good news is all.” 

“That-that is good news, Karen.” Matt didn’t want to quash her enthusiasm, not when she was slowly starting to feel comfortable in Hell’s Kitchen again. 

“Now, do you want me to run to Wal-Mart to get some diapers or anything?” 

“Actually, that would be great.” Matt was relieved. “Foggy is still asleep and I need to go to the police precinct to see if anyone has reported a missing child.” 

“They haven’t.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“I’ve been keeping tabs on the missing person’s list since everything blew up with Fisk. Thought it would be good to know if anyone mysteriously disappears as retribution or something. No new reports since last week.”

“Oh.” Matt bit the inside of his cheek. “Well, keep an eye out.”

“Sure thing. I’ll bring those diapers over in a couple of hours. And a onesie, if I can drum it up.” 

“You’re amazing, Karen.” 

“I know.” 

_________

Foggy stirred to Dolly enthusiastically kicking her feet up and down on his lap. 

“What, what is it?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “What are you so psyched about.” He looked up to see Matt sitting across from the two of them in one of the chairs eating a bowl of oatmeal. Dolly was fixated on the spoon, gesturing at it and kicking. 

“Dude, she wants your spoon,” Foggy informed him. 

“No way. She has a cold and I am not getting baby germs.” Matt took another bite of his oatmeal. Foggy knew Matt’s eyes weren’t functional, but they always looked as though they were staring at something the rest of the world couldn’t see. They looked that way now. 

Dolly coughed. Damn. Matt was right. 

“Maybe we should find you some baby tylenol, huh?” Foggy cooed at the baby to distract himself from staring at Matt’s messy morning hair for too long. Guy might be blind, but he could tell when shit was going down, and Foggy wasn’t quite ready for this particular shit to start to go down. 

“Karen’s bringing over diapers.” He took another bite of the oatmeal, then turned the spoon over in his mouth to suck off a bit he had missed. Foggy forced himself to look down at Dolly and not at Matt’s red lips covering the spoon. 

“That’s nice of her.” 

“You okay, Foggy?” There was a little smile turning up the corner’s of Matt’s mouth and Foggy was sure he was aware of what he was doing. The little shit.

“I think it can be your turn to change the baby this morning.” He rose from the couch, took Matt’s oatmeal from him, and set Dolly on Matt’s lap. 

“But I’m blind!” Matt protested. “I can’t change diapers!” 

“You can beat up bad guys in alleys and cook macaroni and cheese. You can change a diaper. The depends are on the counter.” Foggy sat back down on the couch and continued eating Matt’s oatmeal. This was going to be entertaining. 

Matt had his hands on the baby’s arms, holding her in an upright position. She was kicking her feet up and down again, apparently delighted to finally be in Matt’s lap. Foggy watched the pair of them get up from the chair and make their way over to the counter.

“Put a hand under her bottom,” Foggy ordered Matt. “Helps her feel more supported.” Matt obliged, and successfully changed the baby’s diaper. Though it was not without a few indignant squeaks on Dolly’s part and muttered apologies on Matt’s. They came back over to the couch, and sat down next to Foggy. Very close to Foggy. Thighs-touching close. But he ignored that to spoon-feed Dolly a bite of oatmeal. 

“Germs, Foggy!” Matt complained. 

“You were going to get some kind of baby plague from her anyways. Did you hear anything from the police precinct?” 

“No missing persons or children or anything for the past week.” 

“Weird.” 

“Well, people don’t lose children that often, do they?” 

“Maybe not, but it’s still weird that there’s no missing people at all this week.” Foggy took another bite of oatmeal, and then offered the next one to Dolly. She seemed to enjoy it, and smacked her lips happily. 

“Okay,” Matt said.

“Okay what?” Foggy gave the baby another bite of oatmeal.

“She’s pretty cute, I guess.” 

“Awwwww. You hear that, Dolly?” Foggy put down the oatmeal and lifted the baby from Matt’s lap. He pressed the baby’s face agaist Matt’s cheek, trying to get her to kiss it. “He likes you!” 

“Mmmm, oatmeal kisses,” Matt remarked, brushing a few dried flakes off of his cheek. but he turned his face towards Dolly and Foggy brought the baby closer so Matt could kiss her cheek.


	4. Baby in a blue onesie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy calls Child Protective Services to convince them to let him keep Dolly until they can find her mom. Karen brings over baby supplies and dinner food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The introduction of....Some Angst! And the furthering of....Some Plot! 
> 
> Am I going to keep up with cheesy chapter titles? Absolutely. 
> 
> Do I regret writing Dolly so relentlessly adorable? No, because she's a tough little sweetie pie. 
> 
> Do I want you to comment and let me know what you think? Heck yes! :D
> 
> Find me on the [tumblr machine](http://www.ecologistsarealwaysfine.tumblr.com) if you want. :)

Foggy called Child Protective Services that afternoon. 

“But they’re useless!” Matt pointed out, bouncing Dolly on his lap. Foggy had insisted on wrapping her in a blanket. “The orphanages here are packed to the brim, and you know it.” 

“It’s the right thing to do,” Foggy told him. “Besides, I’m sure I can convince them to let Dolly stay with us.” 

“You do have a silver tongue like that,” Matt agreed. Foggy blushed, recalling the spoon incident. He got on the phone with a local case worker and told him what had happened. 

“Right,” the man (whose name was Derek) said, “we’ll have to take her into custody of the orphanage, probably St. Agnes’s.” 

“Derek, please, you know St. Agnes’s is over capacity. I can take care of her. At least, you know, until a parent crops up. Just get whatever information you need about Dolly and I’ll take care of her.” 

“Dolly?” Derek said, and dammit if Foggy couldn’t hear the smirk in his voice. 

“It’s a cute name.” 

“Whatever. We can work that out, but I’ll have to send a social worker over to make sure wherever she’s staying is baby-proof. Where is she staying, anyways?” 

“In my apartment. I’ll get her a crib and everything, it’ll be fine. Stop worrying, okay?” Foggy was already running through places in his head where he could get a crib. Did people buy cribs in thrift stores? He was getting a little intimidated by the way the responsibilities were starting to pile up. But Dolly needed him. And Matt. She needed them. She didn’t have anybody, and Foggy didn’t want to send her somewhere where she would continue to have nobody. She deserved to be loved. 

“Alright. The social worker will call sometime today or tomorrow to set up a visit to make sure you’re clear to take care of her.”

“Thanks a milion, Derek.”

“Hey, I’m not the one with a new baby. Congrats, I think.” 

They hung up. Matt’s doorbell rang. 

“That’ll be Karen,” Matt said, and made to hand off Dolly to Foggy. 

“No, no,” Foggy put his hands on Matt’s (strong, broad) shoulders and made him sit back down. “Dolly’s starting to get used to you.” It was true, the baby had a faint smile of contentment on her little, round face. 

“She likes you better.” 

“I know that. I’m awesome. But she needs to like you, too. And she’s starting to.” Foggy went to answer the door. 

“Grab the box off the top there, would you?” Karen greeted Foggy with a pile of boxes stacked in her arms, one perched extra precariously at the top. He obliged, and to his delight, it was filled with diapers and onesies. 

“Oh, Dolly!” Foggy sang, racing back into the living room. “Look what Auntie Karen brought you!” He plucked a blue onesie with white birds printed on it from the top of the pile and waved it in front of her. She giggled and reached for it. “It’s a cute blue onesie,” Foggy told Matt, who nodded. 

“I’m Auntie now?” Karen followed him into the living room and laid down a stack of boxes. 

“Woah, five boxes of stuff?” Foggy counted them. “Where did you get all this?” 

Karen hesitated. Matt leaned forward in his seat, and Foggy’s bullshit detector was sounding.

“I, um, may have pretended that I was pregnant to the local crisis center. They may have given me all this stuff because I was so worried about the responsibilities of baby care without my baby daddy.” She looked at the ground, flushed. 

“I mean, it’s not _entirely_ off the mark,” Matt said slowly. 

“Karen, you devious little minx,” Foggy decided to laugh about it, and swatted her with another onesie. She ducked his blow, and fished out a fresh diaper from one of the boxes. 

“I’ll take this diaper change,” she said, scooping Dolly from Matt’s lap, “because you need a real outfit now, don’t you?” She kissed the baby’s forehead. “Your daddies were silly and got you grown-up diapers.” Dolly blew a raspberry at her. 

“Daddies?” Matt said, but Karen didn’t answer as she had started to sing nursery rhymes as she changed and dressed Dolly on the kitchen counter. Foggy studiously kept his breathing steady, though he didn’t have much hope that Matt hadn’t noticed the way his heart leapt at the word. 

______

Matt was actually kind of missing Dolly’s compact warmth on his lap. It was still all a bit insane, this sudden pseudo-adoption of a baby, but her company wasn’t exactly bad. She had laid her head down on his chest when he was holding her, and the sensation of her breathing against him stirred up a feeling that Matt had previously only felt for Foggy and (more recently) Karen. 

Protectiveness. He felt protective over her. It was the strangest thing. He barely knew the child, he had definitely not meant to find her in the dumpster, but he realized she had very quickly wormed her way onto his list: the list of people he wouldn’t hesitate to detach limbs for. Damn. 

Foggy was exhausted on the couch next to him. Matt knew exactly how little he’d slept, and the edge to Foggy’s usual smell told him he was desperate for a hot shower, or a bubble bath, as he occasionally took those. 

“Hey, Foggy, my shower has really good water pressure.” 

“Okay,” Foggy said vaguely.

“Buddy, you’re exhausted and tense. Your shoulders will feel better under good water pressure.” 

“How did you know it was my shoulders?” Foggy shifted from the arm of the couch to the cushion next to him. 

“You always complain about those when you’re tired. You’re just not doing it now because Dolly is distracting you.” 

Foggy yawned. “You’re right. I’ll--” another yawn- “I’ll go do that now.” His weight lifted from the couch and his footsteps grew gradually lighter as he padded his way upstairs. Foggy’s weight was soon replaced by Karen’s as she sat next to him on the couch, baby in her arms. 

“So what’s the deal, Matt.” She sounded like she knew something Matt didn’t. He was confused. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Why are you all hesitant about Dolly? Look at her. I mean--” Karen corrected herself and lifted Dolly to give Matt a kiss on the cheek. He couldn’t help grinning at that and held out his arms. Karen put the baby in them, and Matt lowered her onto his lap. 

“I’m not that hesitant.” 

“You are, though. What’s on your mind?” Karen put a friendly hand on his shoulder. 

“We’re just both orphans, is all.” Matt shifted in his seat. 

“And?” 

“And, I only had a dad for eleven years. I don’t know anything about taking care of kids.” 

“It’s not like people go to school for this, Matt,” Karen brushed her thumb over his shoulder. “It takes a bit of practice, but you don’t need a degree or anything to do it.” 

“I know that.” Matt lowered his head to kiss the top of Dolly’s head. 

“Do you?” Karen’s voice was kind. “Because you’re already good with her. You can pull it off. Foggy will fill in whatever gaps you don’t know, and I’ll help with babysitting, and we’ll find her parents soon enough.” 

A pause. 

“Thanks, Karen.” Matt looked up in the direction of her voice. “Thanks for that.” 

“You’re not alone, Matt. You never have been.” She gave him a one-armed hug and rose from the couch. Matt heard her lifting down dishes from the cupboard. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Making the three of you some dinner.” 

“Only if it’s your grandmother’s patented Virtue Lasagna.” 

“You’re lucky I don’t know how to make much of anything else.” Karen laughed. 

Foggy came down the stairs a few minutes later, smelling fresh and a bit like cinnamon, the way he often did. He patted Matt on the shoulder to get him to come to dinner. Matt intercepted him with a very brief hug. 

“You okay, Matty?” Foggy asked once they’d parted. 

“Fine, I’m fine. You’re taking good care of her. Of Dolly.” He felt his way over to the barstools in the kitchen where Karen was serving the lasagna and cooking a bit of oatmeal for Dolly. 

“I know I am,” Foggy grinned. “Eat your lasagna, Skinny.”


	5. Babyproofing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The apartment has to be babyproofed before the social worker gets here. Karen gets some news regarding Fisk's jury selection, and Foggy has some words of encouragement for Matt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, ya'll, thanks for reading. The encouragement means a lot, and the comments keep me going. Let me know what you think! :D

After she had eaten a respectable amount of oatmeal, Foggy put the rest of it directly in front of Dolly. Karen had managed to find one of those baby tray chairs that attached to a table, and Dolly took great delight in squelching the remaining oatmeal in between her fingers for the rest of the meal. 

“I’ll clean her up,” Karen volunteered once she had finished her lasagna. 

“No, it’s okay, you made dinner,” Foggy protested, but Karen had already lifted Dolly from her chair and was taking her over to the sink. 

“I don’t mind, do I?” she said to the baby. “Auntie Karen will take what baby time she can get, huh?” Dolly splashed her with water. 

“When is the social worker coming over?” asked Matt. He ate the last piece of his lasagna rather delicately, and touched the napkin to his upper lip. Foggy always liked the way his upper lip curved, the way it rose and fell symmetrically on either side of his face, and the way Matt pressed his lips together after eating something he really enjoyed, as if he was trying to savor it beyond the meal. But that was irrelevant for the time being. 

“Um.” Foggy shook his head a little. Focus. “She’s coming over to my place. Sometime tomorrow afternoon.” 

“Dolly is not going to live at your place.” 

“You barely changed a diaper today. She’s living with me.” 

“Foggy, buddy. You live in a broom closet. There’s a lot more room for a baby here.” Matt gestured around his apartment. He was right, it was bigger than Foggy’s. And there was more room on the main floor than in the loft for Dolly to move around. 

“Okay, okay. You’re right. But we’ll have to tell them it’s my place. Or at least that we share it.” 

“Why?” asked Matt. “Oh right,” he corrected himself. “Blind.” 

“If they knew about all your ninja flipping they’d know you manage better than 8 regular parents put together, but last time I checked you wanted the ninja flipping to stay a secret, so,” Foggy got up from the table and took his and Matt’s dishes over to the dishwasher. 

“Ninja flipping?” Matt grinned. “Is that what it is now?” 

“Best descriptor I could think of.” Foggy shrugged and stood next to Karen, who was finishing wiping stray bits of oatmeal off Dolly’s face. He bent and kissed the top of her head. “How’s my girl?”   
“Fresh and clean!” Karen said, and made to hand him the baby.

“Actually, would you mind keeping her company for a little while?” he asked. “I’ve got to do some crash babyproofing of this place if we’re going to get it past social services, even for a little while.” 

“Well, while Daddy’s doing that, we’ll go and sit on the couch and play!” She put the baby on her hip and then made an exaggerated show of collapsing on the couch with Dolly on top of her. Karen feigned being knocked out while Dolly erupted into giggles, patting as much of Karen’s face as she could reach. Karen then opened her eyes and tickled Dolly until she was breathless with laughter. Foggy had to refocus himself again on the task at hand. 

“Right. Matty, where do you keep cleaning fluid and sharp things?” Foggy began interrogating Matt about all the potentially dangerous things in his flat and put them far out of reach of the 8 month old. He and Matt puttered around the main floor of the flat together, covering electrical sockets and putting corner guards on as many sharp edges as they could find. 

________

Once everything was covered that could be covered, the pair joined Karen and Dolly on the couch. 

“Looks good,” Matt remarked, and it took a beat before Karen and Foggy realized the joke and laughed. Matt felt Foggy’s weight shift as he stretched and put his arms over the backs of the couch. Might be nice to lean back a little. He settled further into the couch and put his head back so that the top of his hair was just brushing Foggy’s arm. 

“I think we’re ready,” Foggy said. “Social worker should be calling to schedule in a few hours, then we’ll be all set.” 

“Is that all she’s going to do?” asked Matt. “Check the apartment for babyproofing?” 

“Well, she’s got my background check as well. Got to make sure I’m not secretly an axe murderer or anything.” Foggy answered. “And I imagine she’ll go through our supply stock and give the baby a once-over to make sure she’s okay. And we’ll have to figure out about her vaccinations at some point, but she’ll probably get me the right information there.” 

“You sound very confident in the process.” 

“No reason not to be. We’ll take good care of her until we find her mommy or daddy. In the meantime, we’re decent makeshift parents as is.” Foggy paused. “You sound nervous about the process.” Matt sat up and leaned over, resting his chin in his hands. 

“He’s allowed to be,” Karen spoke up. Dolly made a noise of assent. 

“Social workers still aren’t my favorite people.” Matt felt a hand on his back. Foggy was trying to be comforting. 

“It has been a couple of decades since foster care for you,” he said gently. “These things can improve.” Matt didn’t say anything, just focused on the small motion of Foggy’s thumb tracing a small area on his shoulder bone. “Besides,” Foggy added, “if the social worker’s an idiot, we all know a guy who can go and kick their ass.” 

An awkward pause. 

“Me, guys,” Foggy said. “I was talking about me.” Dolly gave a single, short laugh, and if Matt had to guess, she was probably smiling adoringly at Foggy from Karen’s lap. He had that effect on people. 

“At least Dolly thinks I’m funny,” sniffed Foggy, and Matt cracked a grin at that. Dolly gave another little breathy “Ha!” and this time Matt laughed. Foggy lifted his hand from Matt’s back to take Dolly in his lap, but he seemed mollified. 

“Hello?” Karen answered her phone on the first ring. “Seriously? How did you pull that off?” 

“Is Auntie Karen going to be super secretive this whole time?” Foggy asked Dolly, who sighed as if in agreement. Karen hung up after a few more moments. 

“Fisk’s jury selection is tomorrow, and the bailiff got me in on it!”

“And not us?” Matt was disgruntled. He wanted to see Fisk’s jury selection. 

“You’re charming, Matt, but not as charming as me.” Karen was smug. “But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to report back with all the juicy details.” 

“At this point, we may as well call the firm Page & Associates,” grumbled Matt. 

“I’ll put in a new order for a sign.” Karen got up from the couch and dropped light kisses on everyone’s heads, starting with Matt and ending with Dolly. “Make sure they eat,” she addressed Foggy. 

“I can feed myself!” Matt protested, but he smiled at the sentiment. 

“Foggy is a better cook than you. Sorry!” Karen’s footsteps grew lighter as she made her way to the door of Matt’s apartment and shut it behind her. 

“Damn,” Foggy said, and then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, Dolly,” he apologized to the baby. Matt held out his arms, and Foggy put her in them. He was starting to enjoy Dolly’s wriggling warmth against him, though it was a little irritating the way she could never sit still. Something else they had in common. 

“One step closer to trial,” Matt said, feeling around for Dolly’s hands and letting her grab his thumbs. She strained to heft his hands up above her own legs, and then slammed them down again. This became a new game, and Matt relaxed more into the couch and let Dolly play with his hands. 

“Yeah,” Foggy said. “One step closer.” 

“What are we going to do with Dolly during the trial?” It occurred to Matt that the courtroom might not be the most appropriate place in the world for a baby.

“That’s still a long ways off yet.” Foggy sank further into the couch next to Matt. He patted his knee. “You don’t have to worry so much, you know.” 

“I’m not that worried.” 

“Liar.” 

“Fine. But babies are fragile, and I’m--”

“Good at protecting people?” 

“I was going to say a bit of a wrecking ball.” 

“That’s true too. But you wreck the right folks.” Foggy’s thumb was now absently tracing circles into Matt’s knee, and it was distracting. 

“Not always,” said Matt, thinking of Claire. He hadn’t heard from her at all in the month since Fisk’s incarceration. 

“Claire didn’t know what she was missing out on.” Foggy’s voice was decisive. 

“And you call me a flatterer.” 

“Hey, I’m serious, buddy. You’re a catch. You’re a good guy, and Dolly is not going to care that you spent a lot of time in an orphanage or that you don’t know how to be a parent. No one knows how, Matty. We just do the best we can.” 

Matt let Dolly slam his hands down onto his lap again before speaking.   
“Thanks, Foggy.” 

“We’ll figure it out. We always have.” Foggy patted Matt’s knee again and got up from the couch. He tossed something into Matt’s lap, and Matt snatched it up before Dolly could get ahold of it. “Braille instructions for assembling Dolly’s crib,” Foggy explained. “You read them to me, and I’ll try to put this damn thing together.” 

Matt obliged. 

“And when the social worker gets here tomorrow, no moodiness. You have to do the charming blind-guy thing you usually reserve for girls, okay?” Foggy cursed under his breath, and Matt heard something crash. Perks of being blind included not having to assemble furniture. 

“I know, I know. Charming.”


	6. Baby and a social worker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy spends the night on Matt's couch again. The social worker comes, and Foggy and Matt each get a bit of individual bonding time with Miss Dolly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby heartbeats can actually be quite rapid when they're young, sometimes even twice a regular adult heart rate. I figured double was safe for Matt as he's probably got a wicked low resting heart rate. 
> 
> Baby biology is just wonderful and suffice it to say that Matt will be utterly intrigued with being there for Dolly's growth and development and experiencing it without sight. God, it's fun to write from his perspective. 
> 
> As always, come find me on the [tumblr machine](ecologistsarealwaysfine.tumblr.com), and please do let me know what you think! Comments make my day. :D
> 
> The slow burn will pay off eventually. ;) But these little avocados take awhile for proper feeling expression.

Foggy slept on the couch again that night. Matt tried to convince him to go back to his place, that he could handle Dolly for one night, but Foggy couldn’t leave her. She gave him these big doe-eyes when it looked like he was going for the door, and he was a sucker for big doe-eyes. Probably why Matt got away with so much shit. 

Dolly slept peacefully in her crib for the first half of the night, and then woke up sobbing violently at around 2 am. Foggy jerked awake at this, ready to fight off the inevitable intruder and throw himself over Dolly if it became necessary. When he had rubbed some of the sleepiness out of his eyes and convinced himself that no one was threatening his and Dolly’s life, he walked over to the crib. 

“Dolly, wassamater?” He yawned and reached down into the crib. She was lifting her arms above her head as high as they would go, tears streaming down her round face. He picked her up and kissed her matted hair. “Did you have a bad dream?” he asked. 

Dolly looked at him and sniffled. He took her over to the couch and pulled a blanket up over the two of them. She wound a fist in the blanket and stared straight ahead, keeping watch. 

“There,” Foggy told her. “This is a super magic blanket. It’s gonna protect us from all the bad guys in Hell’s Kitchen.” He gestured widely. “And believe me, there’s a lot of them.” Dolly gave a heaving, shuddering sigh, as if she hated the very thought. Foggy held her closer to his chest. 

“But it’s all going to be okay, Doll. It will all be fine. You know why?” She tipped her chin up to look at him. “Because we have Matty with us. Yeah, Daddy Matt!” Foggy nodded emphatically, as if big gestures would somehow make the 8 month old understand him. “Matty would never let anything bad happen to us. Especially to you. He’s a crazy ninja, he likes to go flipping around the streets at night and protecting all the little ones-” he tapped her nose with his finger, and she gave him a watery smile- “from bad guys.” 

It might have been the haziness that always settled over Foggy at this time of night, but that seemed to pacify Dolly. 

“He loves you,” Foggy told her. “I don’t think he knows it yet, but he loves you.” Dolly reached for his face and tried to get a bit of his hair in her hands. She was unsuccessful. “Daddy Matt is better at loving people than he thinks he is.” Foggy gently lowered Dolly’s probing hand back to her lap and covered it with his own. 

“He even loves me,” Foggy went on. “No, maybe not in the same way I love him, but it’s okay. Love doesn’t have to be like that to be special.” Dolly sighed in agreement. “I wish it were different sometimes, but hey, if wishes were fishes and all that.” Dolly reached for his hair again, and he tied it up out of reach. “But you’re a baby. I don’t think you understand metaphors.” 

Foggy managed to eek a few more hours of sleep out of Dolly before she was wide awake and complaining for food and breakfast. He put her in her chair and puttered around the kitchen, getting things together. 

“I hope that coffee’s not for the baby.” Matt’s scratchy morning voice floated down the stairs as he padded into the kitchen. Matt already had this deep, masculine voice that Foggy loved, but it verged on unfair that it was even deeper with his relaxed vocal cords in the morning. 

“No, it’s for the exhausted parents.” He handed Matt a mug. 

“Beautiful. When do we get paid for this, anyways?” Matt inhaled deeply before taking a sip of the coffee. 

“We get paid in glory and honor. Perk of the job.” 

“Ah. I thought I detected a whiff of honor in this coffee.” Matt held out his mug for Foggy to clink, and Foggy obliged. 

The doorbell rang. 

“That’ll be her!” Foggy set his mug down on the counter with a bit of a crash. He looked at Matt. “Sit with the baby, would you?” Matt frowned. “No, just do it,” Foggy insisted. “Feed her some oatmeal, and then when she’s done, change her. It’ll keep you distracted, and I can deal with the social worker myself.” 

“You don’t want me to talk to her at all?” 

“Man, you can if you want, but I think you’re just going to end up mad and moody over the whole thing.” 

“No, no, I was going to thank you.” Matt raised a hand to reach for Foggy, presumably to pat his back, but ended up on his neck instead. Foggy rolled with it, he always did. Matt’s aim was good with criminals but not so much with casual (friendly?) touch. 

“Oh, okay. Great. Well. Give the baby some oatmeal before it gets too cold, then.” Foggy readjusted his ponytail so it was smooth and right at the base of his neck, and answered the door. A smartly-dressed, raven haired woman was behind it.

“Myra,” she said, extending a hand. He took it.

“Foggy. Nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise. Let’s get going here, shall we?” She looked over at Matt. “Good morning to you, as well.” 

Matt turned towards them and gave one of his devil-may-care charming smiles, and if Foggy wasn’t imagining things, flipped the social worker off from beneath the table.   
________

Matt managed to tune out most of what was going on between Foggy and the social worker. Family law had never been something he was interested in the first place, so the official things that went along with the inspection were drowned out easily in the wake of Dolly’s fascination with her oatmeal. 

Her little hands kept banging down on the table as she reached for the bowl, and Matt was successful in maybe one of every 3 spoonfuls getting into Dolly’s mouth. The rest were her grimy little hands reaching for the spoon and flinging the oatmeal back at him. It turned out that 8 month olds were not trustworthy to take a bite over direct spoon feeding, but Matt didn’t know what he expected. 

Eventually, he gave up and pushed the bowl in her direction. Squelching sounds combined with happy noises from the baby told him her morning had just improved dramatically. Hopefully she’d be interested in putting at least a little bit of it in her mouth. 

“Are you going to eat at all?” he asked her. A string of babble flowed his way. “Great, great. So you love oatmeal, but only because it feels like play-dough between your fingers, huh?” More babble. “I don’t think you’re old enough for coffee.” He took a sip of his own. 

Her little heartbeat was becoming more and more of a familiar sound on Matt’s radar. It skipped along at a rate nearly twice his and Foggy’s. Sometimes it seemed to weave a little song of its own, combined with Dolly’s repertoire of baby babble and well-timed sighs and squeaks, Matt was slowly adding a new song to the cacophonous symphony that was his life. 

Because it was like that sometimes. His heightened senses. When the world wasn’t on fire, it sang to him. The echoes of voices on street corners and footsteps and breaths and heartbeats and car doors and guns crescendoed and decrescendoed as the days went by. It was a suite that belonged only to Hell’s Kitchen, and Matt loved it. But more prominent than the love in his heart for Hell’s Kitchen was his compulsion to keep it safe. 

That seemed like a fruitless mission most of the time. There was always going to be another Wilson Fisk (though at this point Matt was happy he was behind bars), another drug dealer, another gang, someone else ready to fuck up what he had spent so long trying to detangle. The more time he spent behind the mask, the more he came to realize that there wasn’t enough space under his wings for as many people as he wanted.

But there was enough for a few. There was enough for Foggy. And Karen. And now Dolly. He reached out a hand towards the baby, trying to get a feel for whether she was still eating. A sticky hand full of oatmeal told him she was still occupied. 

“Twenty for your thoughts?” Foggy patted him on the back as he came by to sit next to him at the table. 

“I think people usually say ‘penny’, Foggy.” 

“They do. But I just got temporary approval for us to take care of Dolly until her parents can be found, so your thoughts are worth a little more than that now.” Foggy sounded jubilant, and his smile in Matt’s imagination was bursting with light. 

“That’s great, buddy!” Matt held out a fist for Foggy to bump, but instead was enveloped in a bear hug by his best friend. He was briefly overwhelmed by the smell of cinnamon and fabric softener, things he had long associated with Foggy but were now invading his senses. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, this type of invasion. It just took him a moment to regain himself when these things were in such close quarters. 

While wearing the mask, Matt often waited until he knew precisely what was going on in a situation before getting himself involved. Despite his years of practice at toning down his heightened senses, things still became overwhelming and sharp when up close. The feel of sensory overload came awfully near to drowning. 

But if he was honest, Matt Murdock wouldn’t mind drowning in Foggy Nelson.


	7. Jury selection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen comes with news of what happened in jury selection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take some liberties with canon knowledge of Matt's ninja-y activities, as well as the legal process. It's vaguely like an actual trial, what with jury selection and the actual trial looming, but do know that I'm gonna stick to the bare bones of what actually happens in a US trial and then embellish from there because wow drama. ;) 
> 
> Sorry for the angst, it'll get better eventually. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please do let me know what you think! Makes my day to hear from ya'll. :D

Karen came bursting into the apartment the next morning far earlier than Foggy wanted to be awake. 

“I brought coffee!” she sang, prancing through the kitchen. She set down the coffee tray with a crash and crinkled her grocery bag as she dug out a variety of pastries. “And breakfast! Look alive, Foggy!” He sat up to look in her direction just as she was chucking a croissant at him. He barely caught it. 

“Stop throwing food at me,” he whined, rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes. Dolly gave an impatient cry from the crib. “I’m coming,” he told her. 

“We’re celebrating this morning, because Fisk got an excellent jury and I have all the juicy details.” Karen shoved a cup of coffee at Foggy, who waved her off and pointed to the baby. “Oh, I’ll take care of her. You eat.” 

“Karen, why are you so chipper?” Matt was now in the kitchen, and Foggy jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Dude, could you stop with the whole ninja quiet feet thing? You scared me,” Foggy told him. He needed a little more warning before the scratchy morning voice. Matt shrugged and felt around the kitchen counter for a croissant and a coffee cup. Karen was chatting to Dolly while she changed her diaper and got her dressed. 

“Is it just me, or are you bigger from when I last saw you?” Karen tickled Dolly once she had put a onesie on her, and the baby laughed. 

“It hasn’t even been two days, Karen,” Matt said. 

“Babies grow fast.” She threw out Dolly’s old diaper and put the baby in her chair at the table. 

“So what’s the deal with Fisk’s jury selection?” asked Foggy, feeling considerably more awake now that he was halfway through his coffee. 

“All out of towners.” Karen relayed this information with great flourish. She picked up her own coffee and took a generous sip. 

“Seriously?” Foggy was even more perked up now. “Who is the judge on this case, and when can I kiss them?” 

“You’re not kissing anybody,” Matt rejoined, a little too quickly.

“I’ll still have plenty left for you, sugar,” Foggy made exaggerated kissing noises in Matt’s direction, who heaved a long-suffering sigh. But he was smiling. 

“It’s all true,” Karen continued, “I saw it with my own eyes. They said that residents of Hell’s Kitchen wouldn’t count as a jury of Fisk’s peers because everyone was too affected by him in one way or another. They would either be heavily biased for or against him, and getting people from New Jersey to be the jury will make the verdict fairer.” Matt joined them at the table while Karen went into specifics about the composition of the jury. Once she had finished everything, she grinned at the two of them. 

“She’s grinning like a jack-o-lantern right now,” Foggy informed Matt. Matt flashed a thumbs-up.

“This is good news. Maybe we could actually get Fisk put away for good.” He rubbed his chin.

“Put away for good?” Foggy drained the rest of his coffee and chucked the cup in the trash can. “I’m banking on the death penalty here.” 

“Death penalty?” Matt and Karen spoke in unison.

“What, you don’t think he deserves it?” Foggy folded his arms. 

“Wasn’t the whole point of this ordeal that no one can say who does and doesn’t deserve death?” Matt countered. 

“Right, says the city’s resident masked vigilante dishing out justice whenever and wherever he sees fit.” 

Matt opened his mouth to reply again but thought better of it and closed it. Foggy smirked. 

“I’m not the jury, buddy. I won’t actually have the final say in any of this. So I’m gonna be as much of a jerk as I want about his fate, because I think he deserves to die.” He finished his croissant and went to throw away the napkin. 

“He might have people that he loves,” Karen offered. “There might still be someone who cares if he dies, even after all the shit that he’s done. Everyone has people who love them.” 

“Do they?” Foggy took down a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. 

“Seems crazy, I know.” She fed Dolly another bite of (what was becoming) her usual morning oatmeal. 

“He has Vanessa,” Matt said.

“Who’s Vanessa?” Foggy asked. 

“His….well, as far as I could tell, his girlfriend.” 

Foggy spat out his water. “ _Girlfriend?_ Are you serious?” 

“Everyone has people who love them.” Matt still hadn’t turned in his direction. 

“He must have really put one over on her.” 

“Fisk would be too hard to fool.”

“Right, sorry. I forgot you’re the only one allowed to have an opinion on these things.” 

“Given that he almost killed me a couple of times, I’d say that might be accurate.” 

“That’s the problem, you’re in too deep, and--god,” He trailed off. Foggy was starting to get a more angry than he planned over this whole thing. He put his cup in the sink and bit the insides of his cheeks to keep from talking anymore. 

“So does that mean you two are done?” asked Karen. “Because I’m tired of listening to you fight, and Dolly is too.” Dolly gave a disappointed sigh in their general direction. Foggy looked at her and the let-down expression on her face. It was working, he felt guilty. 

“Come here, poor thing,” he said, and lifted her from Karen’s lap. “I think we’ll have an easier time giving you a bath in the actual bathtub, huh?” 

“Ba ba ba ba ba,” she told him intelligently. 

“That’s what I thought,” Foggy answered, and they went upstairs together.  
__________

Matt could tell Karen wanted to say something. It was radiating off her like a bad cologne. He had a stray hope of being spared, but she plowed right ahead.

“Does it really matter so much for you to be right?” The chairs scraped against the floor as she moved towards him. She took his hand. 

“Foggy’s good, but he doesn’t--he doesn’t know.” 

“Doesn’t know what?” Karen asked. “Doesn’t know how Wilson Fisk slams people’s heads in car doors until they kick it? Or any other manner of brutal things he does for shits and giggles? Does he need to know those things?” 

“Does he have to suddenly turn heartless when we need to uphold the law?” 

“Matt, let’s not pretend like you’re a paragon of consistency when it comes to ‘upholding the law’.” 

“I know that, I just-” 

“You what?” Her hands were soft in his own, a tactile reassurance of her good intentions.

“I hate that he’s changed. Since I told him about the--” Matt gestured vaguely. “The ninja stuff.” 

“Are you sure he changed in response to the ninja stuff?” 

“What else could it be?” 

“Lots of things. You’re important, Matt, but you’re not the only thing. He used to live in a very controlled little world where the two people he loved were predictable. I was always around for the office work, and you were the blind guy who took a little extra time getting places.” 

“I’m still blind.” Matt was thinking about the “people he loved” phrase. 

“But you also go beat up Fisk’s cronies at night. Do you have any idea how much Foggy worries about you? And how much worry it adds to his load to think about you in some alley risking your life-” 

“To keep the city safe!” Matt cut in. 

“That may be so,” Karen allowed, “but it sometimes seems like you do it to prove something.” 

“I don’t,” Matt insisted. But after a pause, he realized she had a point. “It used to be that way. Maybe sometimes it still is. But now it’s about keeping my people out of Fisk’s reach. I felt guilty enough when they got to you, and I know I couldn’t forgive myself if it happened to Foggy, too.” 

Karen went very still, her heartbeat measured. 

“How did you know about that?” Her voice was low. 

“You think I stopped after Westley was killed? You don’t think I tried to find out who did it? They could have been a new threat to us, some new bullshit to deal with. I made the security guy get into the cameras and tell me what had happened.” Matt put his other hand on top of hers so hers was ensconced in both of his. “I destroyed the tape after that.” 

“I guess I should thank you,” she said. “Thanks, for that.” 

“I was hoping you’d talk to me or someone else about the whole thing, but I figured it was better to let you deal how you saw fit.” 

Silence passed between them for several moments. Matt gently removed his hands from Karen’s and put them in his lap. 

“You should go talk to Foggy,” she said. “Explain things. Let him explain. I know the pair of you pretend like things are alright, and I know they’ve gotten better since Fisk was arrested. But still. Some things need to be explained.” 

“Alright, alright.” Matt put out a fist for her to bump, and she obliged. “As usual, you’re better than both of us combined.” 

“I know I am,” she said, and Matt could hear the grin in her voice as she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. She went to clear up the remaining dishes, and Matt went upstairs to find Foggy and Dolly.


	8. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Foggy have A Talk. Dolly mediates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of the plot and of my own headcanons, I bend and twist the reasons why Matt started being Daredevil in the first place. :)
> 
> I know these chapters are v bite sized, but it will ultimately make the plot more continuous since I can keep track of it in smaller chapters. And it means faster updating, so....win win? 
> 
> As always, come find me on [the tumblr machine](http://www.ecologistsarealwaysfine.tumblr.com), and please let me know what you think. It's really lovely hearing from ya'll. :)

Matt heard the last of the water draining out of the tub when he arrived upstairs. Foggy was talking softly to Dolly, explaining to her how the drain worked and how some day she would be big enough to give herself a bath but for now he didn’t mind giving her baths because he loved her and that’s what you did for people you loved. He went on to attempt a haphazard explanation about germs and the importance of personal hygiene, something Dolly tried to turn into a conversation with an intelligent stream of vowels and the odd squeak interspersed. 

He felt much of his anger at Foggy dissipating the longer he listened to him talk to Dolly. It could get frustrating, the amount of love Foggy Nelson had in his heart. He gave it away so freely and so abundantly and always seemed to have more of it to spare. And it was so consuming and warm and selfless and Matt often felt painfully inadequate under Foggy’s radiating love, even if it wasn’t the type of love he wanted from Foggy. He wished he could give back even a fraction of what Foggy had given him, but he knew that was all but impossible.

But then again, that was part of what made him amazing. It had taken Foggy about an hour after they first met in college for him to decide to love Matt. It was a warm, comfortable love of friendship, and Matt was still pleased to have it even once he realized he might love Foggy as more than a friend. Because Foggy was relentless with showing affection, and he was constantly reminding Matt of how much he valued his friendship. They were nondescript reminders, a “love ya, buddy” when they’d finish talking on the phone, and even sometimes a “Love, Foggy” on the rare Braille note that Foggy would put together if he was going to be out of town. Those always warmed Matt’s heart and he saved them all, because he knew how long it took him to learn Braille, and Foggy trying to learn enough to leave haphazard notes meant more than he could express. 

The door to the bathroom shut, and Matt heard two heartbeats come into sharper focus. Foggy’s steady lumber and Dolly’s upbeat skip were no longer muffled by the wall. 

“I can be an ass,” Matt said. 

“That’s true.” Foggy sounded wary, but not angry anymore either. His footsteps started up again, towards Matt’s bed. The slight groan of the springs told him he and Dolly were sitting down, and Matt went to join them. 

“Fisk is a menace.” 

“That’s also true.” 

“But for reasons that are completely beyond me, he did love Vanessa.” 

“And what, he doesn’t now that he’s in jail?” 

“I’m trying here, Foggy,” Matt said pointedly. Dolly mimicked his tone of voice in a brief string of vowels. 

“Sorry. I’ll stop.” 

“Fisk and I--we almost want the same things for Hell’s Kitchen.”

“You want to see it go down in flame?” 

“Foggy.” 

“I know, I know. Go on.” 

“We both want it to be better. But his version of better involved quite a few more trails of corpses than mine does, and more drug rings and bribed cops to keep everything under wraps.” Matt took a deep breath. “He kind of-he got to me. He knows how we’re similar and tried to turn me into something that I’m not and when he started in on threatening the people I love, well, that’s when everything escalated.” He took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. 

“Da ba da ba ba,” Dolly added, and Foggy chuckled at her and kissed the top of her head. It might have been Matt’s own nervousness, but he thought he heard Foggy’s heartbeat falter. 

“I was so desperate to prove him wrong. That we’re nothing alike. But the worse things got, the more I realized that the lines that separate me and Wilson Fisk are really thin and fragile and so I have to believe that he has people who love him because if he doesn’t, then there’s no way that I can.” The last few phrases all tumbled out of Matt’s mouth at once, because as he said them he realized the extent to which he believed them, and shame heated up his cheeks. 

Foggy had gone quiet. Matt strained his ears for some indication of a response, wishing that the whole radioactive-heightened-senses thing had included a mind reading component. But no such luck. 

“I know it’s pathetic,” Matt continued on, suddenly uncomfortable with the silence. “Because all I wanted to do was make this place-our childhood home-a little easier to live in and a little less scary. Karen’s terrified. All the time, she’s terrified to go around this city because of what’s happened to her and I hate that. I want her to feel safe. I want a place where Dolly can grow up and play in the corner streets without worrying about her safety.” Another deep breath. “And, well, I want it safer for you, too. That was a big driver in the first place. Because I knew if you could stay safe and optimistic and bright and-” he waved a hand- “and just, _you_ , then I could keep this up. That was why I didn’t want to tell you in the first place.” 

“Because you didn’t think I could handle it?” Foggy finally spoke up, and Matt cringed, because that wasn’t what he meant. Dolly was inserting little strings of quiet babble where she could. She had managed to scoot herself in between the two boys and was alternating between patting Matt and Foggy’s knees, like a tiny mediator. 

“No, god, no. You can handle it. You’re just-” Matt was struggling to find the right words that wouldn’t give everything away, because now was not the right time, it was definitely not the right time. But Foggy had to know. He had to understand, and Matt didn’t know how to make him understand. “Hell’s Kitchen feels so dark and cloudy so often that sometimes I wonder why I even stay here. But you’re just, you’re a goddamned ray of sunshine, Foggy, if not the whole sun itself, and you make it possible to stay somewhere so dark and messed up.” 

Dolly patted his knee again, as if to reassure him that he hadn’t totally fucked it up. He turned his hand over, palm facing up so that Dolly could grab each of his fingers in turn and squeeze them with all the strength in her tiny baby body. 

“I worry about you. All the time.” Foggy’s voice had lost its edge. “All the time,” he repeated. “I keep thinking you’ve fallen down a manhole or walked into something sharp, and that was _before_ all the ninja stuff. Now I imagine these constant threats on your life and it’s awful, Matty, it’s just awful.” 

“But I can’t stop it. Not now.” Matt moved a fraction of an inch closer to Foggy on the bed. 

“I know you can’t.” 

“I wish I could.” 

“Do you, though?” 

“I don’t know.” Another fraction of an inch closer. Dolly moved along with him. Matt reached out a hand towards Foggy’s face, and eventually felt his hand come into contact with Foggy’s cheek. It was scruffy and unshaven. He felt Foggy’s inhale and exhale at the bottom of his hand, and brushed away a stray tear coming down Foggy’s cheek. A few of his own escaped from his eyes. It was difficult not to cry when Foggy was. 

When Matt was first learning to deal with his blindness and the heightened senses that came with it, he felt like an exposed nerve. Everything was more intense, by several orders of magnitude, and it took years of practice to tune out sounds and smells and to focus in on the important ones. But he had never really been able to tune out the intensity of touch. 

This was partly because there had been few opportunities to practice, but partly because touch was one of the more primal and unpredictable senses, and it therefore escaped Matt’s usual methods of control. Even now, with his hand on Foggy’s cheek (a gesture that was somewhat rare for them but not at all unusual), Matt’s entire hand tingled. Every detail of the texture of Foggy’s cheek and the amount of time it had been since he shaved washed over Matt and made it difficult for him to focus in the moment. 

So when Foggy leaned forward and kissed the corner of Matt’s mouth (light, feather-light, a barely-there kiss), a shiver erupted from the top of his head and traveled rapidly through the rest of his body. They parted, Foggy giving Matt room to breathe and Matt trying to recover what was barely left of his senses. 

“Was that okay?” Foggy’s voice had gone much softer now, and instead of the galloping heartbeat that was pounding out of Matt’s chest, his had slowed even further to something languorous and easy. 

“Yeah,” Matt breathed, “yeah, it was.” 

Dolly gave a contented little sigh between the two of them. Her work was done, for now.


	9. Foggy panics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt take another step. Foggy freaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...angst. It has to happen. But they'll figure it out in the end. Also, more Plot cometh in the next chapter, baby vaccinations and further news on the Fisk trial combine with Matt and Foggy having to pretend like they're a good, put-together couple when they go to the doctor. But hey, fake it till you make it, right? ;) 
> 
> Do leave a comment if you feel so inclined, really makes my day and is v motivating. <3 <3 thank you so much for reading and being wonderfully supportive.

Foggy hesitated. He made to ask Matt again if he was okay, because he remembered the little comments. He remembered Matt’s sheets feeling like sandpaper and his new clothes like tiny pinpricks on his skin until he got used to them. He remembered how Matt always grabbed the same part of his arm and the same part of any visitor’s arm when being led around because he knew how it felt and was used to it and it wasn’t shocking. He remembered these things and he knew something must carry over when it came to...well, when it came to moments like this. 

Dolly was playing with his thumb, encircling it with her own hands. She was just barely able to make her fingers meet. 

“Are you sure, Matt? Because--” Foggy asked again, but Matt had clasped both hands on either of Foggy’s cheeks and had pulled him in again and _god_ , it was so good, Matt was so deliberate and painstaking and it was as if he knew exactly what Foggy wanted, what he had wanted for _years_. 

Foggy pulled back, panting. This wasn’t part of the plan. He had wanted this for years. Matt hadn’t. He had made that clear from day one and Foggy had taken awhile to get over himself but he got over himself because Matt was worth it and now all of that was welling back up inside his chest and he couldn’t take it. Dolly made frustrated noise in between them.

“She’s probably hungry again,” Foggy breathed, and took the baby into his arms. He left Matt sitting on the bed and went downstairs to make her more oatmeal. Karen was tapping away on her phone at the kitchen table and looked up, expectantly, as Foggy walked in and set Dolly in her chair at the table. He avoided eye contact with her, and her eyes grew wide in response. 

“Oh, shit,” she said, tucking her phone in her pocket. “Fogs, I got some baby formula. It’s in the fridge, stir it in with Dolly’s oatmeal.” Foggy did as she said, but with a mechanical nature to his motions. “Shit,” Karen said again. “Did he kiss you?” 

Foggy nodded, and then shook his head, and then nodded again, and then touched his fingers to his lips briefly before heating up the formula in the microwave. Karen waited patiently until the formula was done heating up. She watched Foggy mix it with the oatmeal, and took the bowl from him once he was done stirring. 

“I’ll feed her,” she said gently, and took a seat next to Dolly. 

“It’s too much,” was all Foggy could manage. “I thought I was over it. I didn’t even want to be more than friends anymore because things were so much better as friends and Matt didn’t want more so I adjusted and I love him as a friend but now he’s gone and--” another touch to the lips, lingering this time, “done _that_ and I messed it up. I messed it all up.” 

Karen gave Dolly a bite of oatmeal, which she accepted neatly. She chewed as best she could, for not having more than a tooth or two. Her big brown eyes watched Foggy as though she was expecting a detailed explanation of the events she had so carefully orchestrated. 

“How have you messed it up?” 

“I started it,” said Foggy gloomily. “It was little, I was in the moment, but now I wish I wasn’t in the moment because it was a bad moment and now I’m all mixed up again and I don’t like being mixed up. Mixed up is for girls in bad romantic comedies.” 

Karen swatted him. 

“Fine, maybe for the boys too,” Foggy amended. He looked over at Dolly, who was glaring at him. 

“That’s better.” She gave Dolly another bite of oatmeal, but the baby missed this time and most of it ended up on her chin. She continued to glare at Foggy, and Foggy cowered. 

“How well does pretending something never happened work?” Foggy cradled his chin in his hands and looked at Karen, plaintive and pathetic. She patted the top of his head, sympathetic. 

“Not well, Fogs. Not well at all.”   
__________

Matt remained in a daze up on the bed for several minutes. He didn’t regret what he had done. But he was having trouble thinking about the ramifications of kissing Foggy like that when all he could really think about was the act itself. 

Foggy’s plush lips sliding against his own and sending shockwaves down his spine (and to other places). Something sliding into place, something he had known for awhile but had needed confirmation of, something in the depths of his heart that he had been afraid to look at until now. A brief sensation of rising, of floating outside his body for a split second and being possessed by light and feeling. 

And then crashing back down to earth when Foggy pulled away. Crashing back down to earth _because_ Foggy pulled away. Being alone in the room and feeling the absence of his--whatever Foggy was--and thinking all these things through because Foggy pulled away. 

Matt’s stomach dropped a little. He had misjudged. Foggy had been going for his cheek, or something. Or his senses had completely deserted him and Dolly had been giving him a kiss and had missed, and kissing Foggy back had crossed a line and _shit_ , he had misjudged. 

He reached for the frame at the foot of his bed and rose. The wall was a few feet directly back from there. He covered the distance easily and dragged a few fingers along the wall until he found the handrail to the stairs, and then gathered as much courage as he had in him to make his way downstairs. But when he got to the bottom of the steps, Foggy’s signature faint smell of cinnamon and fabric softener was gone, and there was no soothing baby scent around. 

“It’s just me,” Karen said, her voice kind. “Foggy took Dolly on a walk to the park.” 

“Well, glad I’m not the only one freaking out.” Matt felt his way over to the table and bumped into Karen in his usual seat, so he moved to the one next to her. 

“You two. I can’t be a go-between forever, so you should probably go and talk to him at some point. Again. Preferably this time without kissing at the end of it and scaring each other half to death.” She sounded vaguely amused by the whole thing. 

“I overstepped,” Matt said. “I overstepped. He didn’t want any of that, and I got caught up, and I way overstepped. God, I’m an idiot.” He buried his face in his hands, trying to hide the burning in his cheeks from Karen. But she hadn’t missed it. She never missed a thing. 

“I can’t pretend to know what Foggy wants, but I’d also venture to say that you can’t either. You’ve got to actually ask each other about these things. The answer might surprise you.” 

“When did you assume the role of Sage in this group?” Matt was feeling less panicked. 

“Since my boys started to have twisty-turny feelings in them that I learned how to deal with months ago.” Now Karen sounded smug. Matt reached out to punch her on the shoulder, but his fist connected with the back of her chair instead. 

“Ow,” he complained.

“Karma,” she said. “And while you’re at it, figure out a place for Dolly to get vaccinated. We will not be putting this shit off forever.” 

“I can’t handle so much at once,” Matt continued to complain.

“I’m Matt Murdock, I can beat up the entire Russian mob by myself but I’m scared of taking my baby to the doctor,” mocked Karen in an exaggerated imitation of Matt’s voice. 

“Fine, fine,” Matt conceded, but he was smiling. Karen had become quite adept at lifting his mood since they hired her on. She was good that way.


	10. Vaccines and things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the park and a trip to the doctor's office. Dolly had to get her shots at some point. :(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the song in this chapter was popularized by the cheetah girls, but it is apparently a real lullaby and not a thing that Disney made up. So, suspend your disbelief a bit. ;) 
> 
> As always, do let me know what you think! Love love love to hear from you guys. Thanks for reading. <3 <3

Foggy’s panic was lifting the longer he walked Dolly in her stroller. She was good company. They passed out of Matt’s block and made their way to the only park in Hell’s Kitchen, a place where Foggy was sure they’d be able to find a couple of pigeons that weren’t out for their blood. Or at least a rat or two that wasn’t bent on killing them all. Maybe even a rabbit, that would be a plus. He pushed the stroller over to a bench and took Dolly out to sit next to him. She caught sight of a pigeon with bright green plumage on his neck and pointed at it, squealing excitedly. 

“Don’t get too excited, Dol, it’s probably from leftover alien radioactive waste, or something,” Foggy told her. Dolly smacked her hands down next to her a few times, as if to get to him to focus on the pigeon. It was inching closer to them. 

“I don’t have any food,” Foggy told the pigeon. It took a few more steps towards them, bobbing its head expectantly. “I don’t,” Foggy repeated, thinking guiltily of the extra bagel he had tucked in the back of Dolly’s stroller. The pigeon knew he was lying, and pecked at the ground. 

“Pa pa pa!” Dolly exclaimed. 

“Pigeon,” Foggy said slowly and clearly. “Pigeon.” He thought for a moment. “Or, flying rat. Can you say that, Dolly? Fl-y-in-g rat.” 

“Fa fa fa,” Dolly reprimanded him. Foggy looked at her. 

“You’re getting more consonants in your babble there, kiddo,” he told her. She grinned. “When were you planning on telling me this?” 

“Fa pa pa,” she said, shrugging her tiny shoulders. Foggy laughed in spite of himself and kissed the top of her head. 

“Now try it again,” he said. “Flying rat. That bird is a flying rat.” 

“Teaching Dolly the essential language of city life, huh?” Matt’s voice came from somewhere behind Foggy, and made him jump about a mile. 

“God, Matt, could you not do that? You’re going to give me a heart attack.” Foggy turned around to tell Matt off, then moved Dolly onto his lap so there was room for Matt on the bench. “There’s a spot for you on the bench, it’s about two good strides in front of you.” 

“Thanks, buddy.” Matt took those two strides, stood his cane up as best he could, and sat next to Foggy. 

“And yes, Dolly needs to know that pigeons are horrible creatures,” Foggy added. 

“They’re not that bad,” Matt said.

“You’ve never had a pigeon steal a french fry right out of your hand. It’s because they don’t steal from blind guys.” 

“Is that so?” Matt laughed.

“Yeah.” 

“So.” Matt wrung his hands in his lap, but with a motion small enough that Foggy wasn’t sure he was aware he was doing it. 

“So,” Foggy repeated. 

“I’m sorry for spooking you,” Matt said very quickly. “I had trouble helping myself and it was rude of me to step over the line like that.” 

“Ma ma ma,” Dolly said approvingly. Foggy was silent, not sure what to say to this. The words had tumbled out so quickly that he needed a moment to string them out the right way in his head, but once they were in the right order, he still didn’t know what to say. 

“You stepped over the line?” 

“Yeah, I--well, I wasn’t sure if it was you or Dolly--well, I’m pretty sure it was you so I thought I could go for it but in retrospect it might not have been you, I do occasionally get overwhelmed--” but Foggy cut Matt off mid-sentence. 

“ _You_ stepped over the line?” Foggy said again. 

“Yeah, I, well, there was no reason for that but I wanted it and wanted to see-anyway. I wanted to apologize because I hate having things weird between us.” 

“Oh, god. Buddy. You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Fa fa fa fa,” Dolly encouraged Foggy. He patted the top of her head. 

“No, I do, I misjudged and put feelings where they weren’t.” 

“You really didn’t.” Foggy reached for one of Matt’s hands. “You didn’t. It was me. I was going to go for it again, but slower, because I didn’t want to overload your super-senses or anything.” 

Matt smiled, a hesitant expression that distracted Foggy from anything he was going to say next because smiling made that dip in his upper lip more prominent and Foggy remembered what it was like to kiss that lip and he wanted to do it again. 

“Sometimes it’s okay for them to be overloaded,” Matt said quietly. Foggy turned his hand in Matt’s and interlaced their fingers. “I didn’t--I don’t usually--well, I never really have wanted anyone to….overload my super-senses, I guess. I didn’t even know it was you I wanted that from until…” Matt trailed off and thought about it. “Till that last year of law school, I guess.” 

“Shit,” Foggy said, automatically covering one of Dolly’s ears as he said the word. He could have sworn she rolled her eyes, but he wasn’t entirely sure babies knew how to do these things. “That long?” 

“Yeah.” Now Matt sounded embarrassed. 

“No, no, Matty, don’t be embarrassed, I--” Foggy struggled to find the words. “It’s been since...like, halfway through college for me? I just thought you--I don’t know what I thought. I just got the vibe you weren’t interested, so I backed off, and that was okay with me, and now-” 

Foggy stopped talking altogether. Matt had untangled his fingers from Foggy’s and was reaching for his face again. His hands were rough from all the ninja flipping but his touch was so delicate and deliberately slow that Foggy wasn’t entirely sure Dolly should be watching this. 

“Can I, um,” Matt’s voice was barely above a whisper, and he was very close to Foggy. “Can I try again?” 

“Yeah,” Foggy said, and put a hand over Dolly’s eyes. She squeaked indignantly. Matt smiled again and brushed his thumb along Foggy’s jawline and up from his chin until he found Foggy’s lips. 

The connection was soft and sweet and entirely too quick for Foggy’s taste. But before he could protest, Matt was kissing him again, precisely and carefully like he was trying to memorize the geography of Foggy’s lips. It was when Matt’s tongue flicked out and traced along the seam of Foggy’s mouth that he was unable to stop the low noise of approval that came out of the back of his throat somewhere. 

Matt pulled back, but not far. Their foreheads were still touching and they both were catching their breath. 

“Do you want to get a babysitter?” Foggy breathed. Matt grinned and kissed Foggy again, a brief promise of what was to come. He pulled back again, further this time. 

“We have an appointment to get Dolly her vaccines,” he said. 

“Mood killer,” Foggy harumphed. Matt shrugged. 

“No tetanus or measles or any of that shit for my baby.” 

“Your baby?” Foggy repeated, smiling. 

“I mean, until we can find her mom.” 

“Your baby, huh?” Foggy said again.

“She is living at my place, so yeah? I guess?” 

“It’s fine,” Foggy told him. “I just like the sound of it, is all. ‘Your baby’.” 

“I could say ‘our baby’, too,” Matt offered.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Foggy got up from the bench and strapped Dolly back into her stroller. Matt followed his motion and retrieved his cane from its spot up on the bench. 

________

The doctor’s office smelled like stale tobacco. Not that the smell was uncommon in Hell’s Kitchen, it was something Matt remembered even from before the accident. It felt out of place in a doctor’s office, though, and while Matt knew rationally that doctors probably saw a lot of patients who smoked and the smell would stick around, he still didn’t like it. Made him feel like Dolly was about to inhale an unhealthy amount of second hand smoke. Though he supposed at her age any amount was bad, and he didn’t want any of it to make it into her lungs. 

“Are there face masks around here?” he asked Foggy, who had just signed them in at the reception desk. 

“No, dude. Why?” 

“Smells like cigarette smoke. Don’t want Dolly to inhale any of it.” 

“It’s just a smell, Matty. Not the actual smoke. She’ll be okay.” 

“You don’t know that. Could be something in the smell.” 

“Look at you, being an over-protective hen!” Foggy sounded delighted. 

“I know, that’s usually your job. Sorry about that.” 

“It’s a tiny bit adorable, that’s all.” 

“I’m not adorable.” 

“Whatever you say, buddy.” 

“Dolly Murdock?” An official-sounding voice came from the direction of the desk. Matt’s stomach did a little flip at the sound of his last name attached to Dolly’s. But before he could ask Foggy why he had written her name as Murdock and not Nelson, Foggy was already answering the voice and nudging Matt to take his elbow to go back into the doctor’s office. 

“I understand you have some vaccines to catch up on?” The voice spoke again, though Matt had no way of knowing whether it was a doctor or a nurse. He let Foggy take the wheel on this one. 

“We do!” Foggy said, his voice taking on that charming, sunny tone that it always did with new people. 

“And can I ask why you didn’t get these vaccines any sooner?” 

“Well, she’s an orphan. We only just adopted her and they’re not always up to date on these things depending on the orphanage,” Foggy explained in a matter-of-fact voice that seemed to placate the other person. “The nurse is wondering why we haven’t gotten these sooner, and he’s making really goofy faces at Dolly right now,” Foggy informed Matt. 

“I am not,” the nurse said indignantly, though Matt knew he was lying. “I’ll be administering Dolly’s vaccines. Which of you wants to hold her?” 

“Hold her?” Matt said blankly. 

“Well, it’s a big needle in the arm, isn’t it?” Foggy said reasonably. “I wouldn’t want to go it alone either. I’ll do it, I’m already holding her, and Matt can sing her his favorite Spanish lullabies.” 

“Great,” the nurse said, and Matt heard some clattering as the nurse prepared the injections. Dolly began to whimper, and Foggy began to whisper something soothing in her ear that Matt wasn’t listening to because he was racking his brain for something to sing. He hated singing in front of people but when Dolly burst into tears at the first needle, he started with the first thing that came to his head. 

 

_“A la nanita nana, nanita ea, nanita ea,_  
mi niña tiene sueño, bendito sea, bendito sea.  
Fuentecilla que corres clara y sonora  
ruiseñor en la selva cantando lloras  
callad mientras la cuna se balancea  
a la nanita nana, nanita ea. 

Dolly’s crying had slowed and was steadily starting to die off. Matt could have sworn he heard Foggy sniffle. 

“I still have three more shots to give her,” the nurse told him. “Keep going.” 

Matt obliged, but couldn’t remember any further verses so he sang the same one over again, until Dolly’s cries had subsided into quiet sniffles. 

“There,” the nurse said after the final shot. “All done, sweet pea. I’m so sorry about all that.” 

“She’s glaring at him,” said Foggy helpfully. 

“You sing very beautifully,” the nurse told Matt on his way out. Matt didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded.

“You’re blushing!” Foggy crowed. “Do you know when you’re blushing, or does this get to be something I hold against you for the rest of forever?” Matt felt more heat rising in his cheeks. 

“Shut up, Fogs,” 

“I do like hearing you sing, though,” Foggy said, and his voice had lost the teasing edge. 

“Thanks,” Matt said, still feeling warmth in his cheeks. 

“Ma ma ma,” Dolly said, her voice quivering a little bit. Matt held out a hand, and Foggy placed Dolly’s hand in his. 

“Thanks, Doll,” he told her. He bent down a little and offered her his cheek, and Foggy guided the baby towards him so she could give him a watery kiss. 

“Brave girl,” Foggy praised Dolly.

“Very brave girl,” Matt agreed. “Shots are no fun.”


	11. Further Fisk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Foggy return to the flat after the doctor's. Karen has some further news on the Fisk trial, and Dolly gets some crawling practice! Plus a few cuddles thrown in for good measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't panic, but I have developed a Mystrade-ish fascination with a certain unlikely pairing on the show. So they're going to be a side plot. See, I told you I ship all the things. Probably future fics will just remix all of these ships because dammit if this show doesn't confuse the heck out of me with various romantic pairings. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading. <3 Do comment and let me know what you think, especially if you're a person with lawyerly knowledge that wants to consult! Also see extra notes at the end for the balance I'm trying to strike between they way a trial like this would work, and what I'm shamelessly embellishing for the sake of fun.

They arrived back at Matt’s flat, where Karen had been baking. Foggy smelled chocolate chip cookies and something with pumpkin, possibly both. 

“Do you just want to live here too?” he asked her. “Because I’m fine with you stress baking.” 

“Hey, it’s my place, shouldn’t I decide that?” Matt protested, but Karen barrelled on without answering either of them. 

“Are you guys done fighting yet? Because I just got a call with big news!” 

“You’re certainly buzzing,” Foggy remarked, and set Dolly in her chair at the table. She had been fussing on the way back from the doctor’s office, and Foggy figured she probably wanted a snack of some sort. He moved to rifle around in the fridge for something baby-appropriate. Matt left his cane at the door and moved slowly into the living room/kitchen area to go sit next to Dolly. Foggy could feel Karen’s eyes on him, and then moving to Matt, and he blushed. She walked by and elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Later,” she whispered in his ear, almost a hiss, “I expect to know everything.” 

He nodded, and brought over a dish of blueberries to Dolly. She inspected them, suspicious at first that they were edible. After a few moments she picked one up and shoved it in her mouth, and eventually decided it was acceptable. Foggy sat next to Matt, patting his back as he did so to let him know he was there. 

“So what’s the news?” asked Matt. 

“Marci Stahl's best friend will be the prosecution in the Wilson Fisk trial!” Karen nearly squealed with the revelation. Foggy and Matt didn’t say anything for a moment. 

“I didn't know Marci had friends who were DAs," Foggy said, feeling a little jealous that she had an in. 

“She does," Karen went on. "They knew each other in law school, or something. Marci's gonna sit in on the trial every day to be our gossip pipeline, since she probably won't get anything out of the friend before the trial's over with."

“Damn,” Matt said. 

“Shoulda been a DA,” Foggy said. 

“I feel like I'm waiting for the premiere of my favorite show or something with waiting for this trial to start." Karen filled the coffee maker with freshly ground beans, doing a little dance from foot to foot.

“How’d you find all this out so quickly?” Foggy asked.

“I have been keeping up with things,” she said, getting out three mugs. 

“So did Marci tell you all this while we were gone, or what?” Foggy accepted a mug from Karen and patted Matt’s hand to let him know the coffee was nearby. He took the mug. 

“And if she did?” Karen said, avoiding eye contact with Foggy to drink more of her coffee. “That a problem?”

“No, no,” Foggy was unable to keep a bit of sing-songiness out of his voice, but he dropped the subject. 

“Anyways,” Karen continued, some of the embarrassment fading from her voice, “the two of you will probably be called to the witness stand at some point. You should be prepared for that. In the meantime, I imagine we will be let in to watch the trial, at the very least.” 

“That’s something,” Foggy said. Dolly had finished her blueberries, so he took the bowl from her and went to put it in the dishwasher. 

“I think it’s time this one got a little time to run around, don’t you?” The question was directed to the grown-ups in the room, but Matt was addressing Dolly while he spoke. She blew a raspberry at him, and Foggy took that as a yes. He made to lift her from her chair and set her on the ground near the couch. Foggy sat to watch her go at it. 

“Does she crawl?” asked Matt. Foggy watched Dolly for a moment before answering. 

“She’s up on all fours and rocking back and forth, like she’s thinking about it,” he told Matt. Karen joined him on the couch. 

“It’s okay, Doll, you can do it!” she encouraged the baby. 

“Ha ha ma!” Dolly exclaimed, pitching forward and crawling a couple of inches. Foggy and Karen cheered. 

“She did it!” Foggy told Matt, who joined in the cheering and made his way over to the couch. Dolly had no trouble sitting up on her own, but in the couple of days they had her she hadn’t really been given much time on the floor to practice crawling. Foggy thought guiltily that perhaps that was because the rest of them enjoyed cuddling with her too much to allow her time on the ground. But then he defended himself, thinking that wherever she was before the dumpster, she probably didn’t get much cuddle time. 

“Does it seem late at all to you for her to be crawling?” asked Matt. 

“Since when do you know things about baby developmental timelines?” Foggy was mildly impressed by the question. Karen took over on this one.

“Yeah, it’s a little delayed. But it’s okay, isn’t it. Because you had yourself a bit of a rough start, Miss Dolly, so you’ll just move along at whatever pace you want.” Karen joined Dolly on the ground and mimicked her crawling position, trying to encourage the baby to crawl further. She made it a few more inches before sitting back on her feet. Foggy narrated this for Matt, who was moving closer to him now that Karen was on the floor with Dolly. 

“When do you think she’ll start to walk?” asked Matt, who had just stretched his arms up over the back of the couch. 

“If you knew her crawling was delayed, you probably know when a good time for a baby to start walking is,” Foggy pointed out. Matt shrugged. 

“Maybe I just like hearing the sound of your voice,” he said, the pitch of his voice dropping almost to that scratchy lowness it took on in the morning. 

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Foggy elbowed him in the ribs, trying to draw attention away from the warmth rising in his cheeks. 

“Is it working?” Matt was grinning now, a rare sort of smile that made him look like he was delighted to be right where he was, right next to Foggy, and that made Foggy’s stomach do uncoordinated little backflips. He started thinking about the park bench and wishing that the baby wasn’t staring right up at them during a break in her crawling. Karen was dutifully focused on Dolly, but she had a sly look of satisfaction on her face. 

“Maybe,” she said, “Miss Dolly and I will take a walk and go shopping for a few more baby onesies. I think your daddies will be very grateful for spares.” She lifted Dolly from the floor and put her on her hip. The baby started chattering to Karen in an animated flow of babble, all of which Karen responded to at appropriate intervals. 

“Thanks, Auntie Karen,” Foggy called after her. Karen lifted a hand to acknowledge the praise but kept talking to Dolly the whole way through.  
_______________________________________

Matt waited until Karen had shut the door behind her. 

“So we’re daddies now, huh?” he said. 

“That okay?” Foggy asked. 

“I mean, no sense in leaving her now, huh?” Matt lowered his arm that was draped over the back of the couch closer to Foggy’s shoulders. Foggy seemed to notice this motion and leaned back into Matt’s arm. The embrace wasn’t entirely new territory for them. Both had been known to throw an arm around the other as an expression of affection, or even to walk with their arms around each other. 

But this time felt like a choice, rather than something they did impulsively while bantering back and forth. Matt wanted to feel Foggy’s weight in his arm, to feel his chest rising and falling and to have his heartbeat that much closer to him. Foggy sank a little deeper into the couch and put his head on Matt’s shoulder. 

“Stop me if it gets weird, okay?” Foggy told him, and Matt could feel his voice resonating in his own chest. 

“It’s not weird,” Matt said. “It’s...it’s nice.” 

“So Marci Stahl's got a connection in Fisk's prosecution, huh?” The top of Foggy’s head was brushing against Matt, and his hair was soft. 

“Wonder who's going to be ballsy enough to defend him." 

“A couple of months ago I would have thought that would be us." 

“Guess we turned out to be do-gooders after all, huh Fogs?.” 

“We drove Fisk into the ground as best we can. Hopefully this prosecutor isn't totally clueless." 

“Justice will be swift.” 

“Wish we were a little more in the know with all this.” 

“Well, we've been a little busy," Matt pointed out, thinking of the baby. 

“True enough. We'll watch I guess,” Foggy confirmed. 

“Unless we're giving testimony." 

“You gonna be a good little witness and not tell me what you say, then?" Foggy asked, trying to sound persuasive. 

"You know I want the system to work to put Fisk away. I wouldn't do anything to compromise it." 

"You're no fun! Marci would tell." Foggy sounded so petulant that Matt couldn’t help laughing. 

“Would she though?" Matt chuckled. 

“You don’t know Marci like I do.” 

“No, I didn’t sleep with her, but I know her. It’ll be fine, we’ll bust some big baddie of our own and then you can rub it in her face all you want. And then you'll have all the gossip.” Matt rubbed a hand up and down Foggy’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Foggy said. “Whatever.” Matt laughed again and ducked his head to kiss Foggy’s. He landed somewhere near Foggy’s temple, and Foggy froze. Matt stopped immediately. 

“Is it not--is it not okay?” he asked. 

“No, no, it’s good, I’m just--just still not used to it.”

“Me neither,” Matt said truthfully, and kissed Foggy’s head again. His hair was soft beneath his lips, and the sensation still carried with it a fair amount of shock. He continued dropping little kisses along Foggy’s hairline, trying to memorize the feel and not be surprised by it the next time it happened. Foggy relaxed after a few moments and sighed beneath him, a contented and approving sound. 

Matt lifted the hand that was around Foggy’s back to run it through his hair, and Foggy made a noise under his arm and lost his balance. His head thudded into Matt’s lap, and Matt grunted at the impact.

“Sorry about that,” he said, reaching down to figure out where Foggy’s head was now. 

“No, this is more comfortable,” Foggy told him, guiding his hands towards his face. Matt felt Foggy’s eyes flutter shut, and Matt spent the next several minutes carding his fingers through Foggy’s hair and tracing gentle lines around his jawline and up his scalp. It was a slow construction of what Foggy might look like in his mind. After a few minutes of this, Foggy was asleep in his lap. Matt didn’t know what to do beyond doze off himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated notes!   
> Some very helpful lawyerly commenters have let me know that it's not really plausible for Marci to be involved with the trial due to the file folder thing (among others) at L&Z. So to get a little jealousy going on, I've made her best friend be the prosecutor instead. No shenanigans going on with courtroom secrets, but Foggy would at least feel jealous that Marci had some proxy street cred. Thanks for the constructive criticism from the commenters. :)
> 
> Check out [this](http://thelegalgeeks.com/blog/?p=8138) for some interesting commentary from real-live lawyers about whether Marci could continue being a lawyer after S1 of Daredevil. 
> 
> Also, since our boys aren't prosecutors, we'll just be privy to the parts that are most relevant to them, and not all of the procedural stuff. Karen will also continue to bring back more gossip because she loves procedural stuff, while Foggy and Matt just love to throw down in the courtroom with dramatic speeches.


	12. Napping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy wakes up in Matt's bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you know roughly what to expect. ;) 
> 
> Come find me on the [tumblr machine](http://www.ecologistsarealwaysfine.tumblr.com) and tell me how your day is. :)
> 
> As always, I'm eager to hear what you think! Let me know and thanks for reading. <3 <3

Foggy woke up to silky-soft pillows under his head. He stirred, and felt around him. The silk sheets and the well-loved quilt felt suspiciously like Matt’s bed. His suspicions were confirmed when he turned over onto his side to see Matt asleep next to him. Though Foggy couldn’t be sure if he was really asleep or faking it for Foggy’s benefit. He didn’t have super-powered heartbeat senses, or whatever it was that allowed Matt to have such a keen reading on other people’s bodies. 

Matt’s hair was falling in his eyes. Foggy reached out to brush it aside, and caught sight of a faint set of scars around Matt’s eyes that he didn’t usually notice. Made sense, he didn’t exactly expect Matt to make it through radioactive material being splashed in his eyes with a perfect complexion. He wasn’t sure why he had never noticed them before, but they became him. Foggy strained forwards to kiss the scars, because that was something he could do now. Kiss Matt. It all felt fresh and more than a little scary but he liked it.

“Hi,” Matt was awake now, and smiling faintly at Foggy. 

“Did you carry me upstairs?” Foggy moved to Matt’s cheeks, which were prickly with stubble. 

“Yeah.” Matt answered.

“Do you have super-strength now, too?” 

“No, I just do a lot of pushups.” Matt was now giving Foggy a mischievous grins and Foggy moved in to kiss it right off him, and was pleased with the results. Matt made a noise like the air had been knocked out of his lungs, and Foggy withdrew before trying again.

“Too fast?” he asked.

“A little,” Matt admitted, and reached for Foggy’s face. Foggy took the hint and let Matt take the lead for several minutes. The pace of things slowed dramatically, but the intensity still bubbled below the surface. 

Matt was so purposeful and accurate at such close range, making careful work of Foggy’s mouth with his own. They settled into an unhurried rhythm, an exploration of each other’s lips that ebbed and flowed and swayed like a rowboat atop the waves. Foggy’s rhythm was disrupted when Matt moved from his lips to his cheek and jawline, and eventually down to his neck. 

Though Foggy’s heart was certainly picking up its pace, Matt’s movements were still measured and soft. His unrushed trail down Foggy’s jaw to the nape of his neck was steadily draining the blood from Foggy’s head. After a moment, Matt’s tongue traced an even line back up to his mouth. Then the blood left Foggy’s head completely. He reached for Matt and carded a hand through his hair-- _god_ it was soft, how a blind guy had such discerning taste in shampoo was beyond him. 

“I want,” Foggy managed, pulling back briefly, “to take your shirt off.” 

“You do mine and I’ll do yours,” Matt was agreeable and sat up on the bed. Foggy mimicked his motion, but hesitated in reaching for Matt’s shirt. He knew the brunette was in excellent shape; it wasn’t as if he’d never seen him shirtless before. But the action still felt a bit like flinging himself off a new cliff. Matt sensed his hesitation and reached for Foggy’s shirt, pulling it over his head somewhat haphazardly.

“You know I can’t see you, right?” he told Foggy. “Never have to worry about what you look like.” 

“I’m not worried,” said Foggy automatically, and that was mostly true. He wasn’t often concerned about his body image, as he’d spent most of his collegiate years learning to develop a positive relationship with his own skin. He just couldn’t help the shadow of his old insecurities that was rearing its head in this new, intimate situation. 

“Good,” Matt said, moving closer to Foggy. “That’s good, because I’ve been waiting awhile for this.” He reached for Foggy and his hands landed on the blonde’s shoulders. They trailed down Foggy’s arms to his hands, which Matt raised and kissed each palm before placing them on his waist so Foggy could take off his shirt. And dammit if Matt wasn’t beautiful. Foggy couldn’t help tracing a finger from Matt’s sternum down to his hips. Matt waited until he was finished and then snaked his hands around Foggy’s waist. 

“Do you mind if I-” he gestured down the rest of Foggy’s body, presumably asking if he could take the rest of his clothes off. Foggy nodded and then corrected himself.

“Yes, yeah,” and with that Matt laid him down again and went to work until Foggy was bare beneath him and feeling exposed despite the presence of the blind man doing the exposing. 

“Do you know--” Foggy hesitated, unsure of the best way to ask the question. “What--what is in your head, when you think about me?” 

Matt smiled, a slightly sad sort of smile. “You mean what do you look like to me?” 

“Hate asking you sight things.” 

“I don’t mind.” Matt straddled Foggy, his weight giving some relief to the growing heaviness between Foggy’s legs, but not nearly enough. Matt began with his fingers in Foggy’s hair, following strand after strand to its endpoint.  
“I think of warmth,” Matt was tracing down Foggy’s arms again, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “I think of the comfort of my bed at night and imagine you in it. I think of the smell of cinnamon and fabric softener and how I want my sheets and my clothes to smell like that because you’ve been in them.” He had shifted to Foggy’s chest and left open-mouthed kisses from Foggy’s breastbone to his navel. “When I try to remember what the sun looks like as it hits the tops of trees and lights up my room, I think of you. When the sun warms my face outside, I think of you. You’re as close to seeing sunshine as I can get.” 

And it was here that Matt stopped talking altogether, and Foggy’s breath was forced out of him completely by the heat of Matt’s mouth around him. Even with something this messy, Matt was methodical and even-keeled, consistent swells beneath their little rowboat. The waves and the swells built and built until Foggy couldn’t help rutting his hips and Matt had to pull back for a moment because Foggy had triggered his gag reflex. 

Foggy apologized profusely but Matt put a hand over Foggy’s mouth and continued his work, building the waves under the rowboat back up again until it capsized completely and Foggy’s world went white around the edges and Matt swallowed him down as best he could. Foggy’s hands fisted in the sheets at his sides as he rode out the aftershocks. Once he could see properly again he pulled Matt up and forgot all pretense of gentleness and kissed him roughly until Matt pulled away to catch his breath. 

“Sorry,” Foggy gasped, “I just-” but Matt cut him off.

“Quit apologizing,” he grinned. “I’ll tell you when it’s too much.”  
_________________________________________________

Matt had some inkling that Foggy would be good in bed. His exploits with Marci in law school were evidence enough of that. Perhaps due to his own disinterest in anything beyond friendship with Foggy for the first several years of their friendship contributed. Once he had crossed a threshold in their relationship where he had wanted more, Matt didn’t have much to go off of in his own private imaginings. 

Whatever he did imagine, it wasn’t as good as this. Foggy had remembered Matt’s sensory sensitivity and stopped frequently to ask if things were okay and Matt directed him when they weren’t. And _god_ , Foggy was a fast learner. 

Once he found a pace that Matt liked, he did _amazing_ things with his mouth that started out as small waves barely grazing Matt’s skin and grew to great crashing breakers that pulled Matt deeper and deeper under until the biggest white cap had him completely submerged. 

At first it felt like drowning, allowing himself to sink into Foggy like this. But then Foggy pulled him up from the deep and breathed fresh air back into his lungs and Matt was laid bare, stunned that anything could feel this _beautiful_ , this _right_. Foggy laid next to him as his climax was fading, massaging soothing circles into Matt’s palm. 

“I’ll get a washcloth,” he murmured into Matt’s ear, and returned moments later with a warm cloth to clean them both up. Matt felt beneath his bed for a spare sheet, and he held the corners down while Foggy switched the bedding. They curled up beneath the blanket, and exchanged lazy, comfortable kisses until the door opened and shut from downstairs. 

“Make sure you’re dressed!” Karen shouted up the stairs. “I brought your baby back with a fully narrated fashion show!” 

Matt chuckled at the prospect of Karen trying to describe baby onesies to him. He groaned. “Don’t want to get out of bed,” he complained. Foggy kissed the top of his head and army-rolled off the bed. Matt laughed at the vague “thunk” as Foggy made contact with the floor. He followed Foggy off the bed and felt around for his pants. The fashion show awaited.


	13. Summons and Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A baby fashion show...and the trial begins!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I summarize and embellish when it comes to the trial for the sake of The Plot. 
> 
> Sorry this one took so long! I spent the past week in Paris, which was delightful except for me spraining my ankle something fierce less than 24 hours in. Then I finally wrote this guy, but had to revise it a ton. Some chapters flow out of you, others have to be wrangled. This one had to be wrangled. :) 
> 
> Shoutout to [my awesome beta](hermadnessmac.tumblr.com) for her patience in helping me wrangle.
> 
> Come find me on [the tumblr machine](ecologistsarealwaysfine.tumblr.com) if you want to be internet friends. :) 
> 
> As always, your comments make my day so let me know what you think! Thanks for reading.

Dolly was sitting at the base of the stairs as Foggy and Matt made their way down. Karen was wearing an “I-know-everything” grin that made Foggy flush red. At least Matt couldn’t see the look she was giving them right now. He picked up Dolly from the foot of the stairs, and complimented her on her new onesie. 

“Wow, look at that. Is that a sparrow on your tummy, miss Dolly?” He tickled her stomach and grinned as the baby’s quiet giggles grew to clear peals of laughter. Her dark hair was starting to come in a little tuft at the top of her head. He ruffled it, and it stood up like a miniature mohawk.

“It is a sparrow,” Karen confirmed. “There were lots of bird-themed onesies to be had, so I laid out several of them in front of her and let her pick. She really liked the sparrows.” 

“Bird-themed outfits sound cute,” Matt said, moving to sit on the couch. 

“This one has an owl on it!” Karen held up another one, and Foggy looked sideways at it. 

“It’s pink,” he observed. Dolly patted his arm as if to congratulate him on such an obvious observation. 

“Dolly likes pink!” Karen folded up the onesie and put it back in the bag.

“Why, cuz she’s a girl?” Foggy bounced Dolly on his hip. She reached for his hair, but he flipped it out of her grasp in time. 

“No, because I let her roll around on the onesies to try to see which one she liked, and she rolled more often on the pink ones. It’s all scientific, Fogs.” Karen held up another one. 

“A black owl? With the scales of justice hanging from either of its wings. Maybe a tiny bit overkill, Kare-bear.” 

“Not a nickname I approve of.” 

“You were going with Fogs, thought I’d try something new.” 

“Keep fishing, Fogs.” Karen’s tone was light. 

“Scales of justice?” Matt repeated. “Trying to get her into law early on, huh?” Dolly made an approving noise, staring up at Foggy with wide doe-eyes. 

“No,” he told her, though he knew that wouldn’t be a word she’d easily accept. They went to sit on the couch together. 

“She’d be a great lawyer,” Karen said enthusiastically, coming over from the kitchen area to kiss the top of Dolly’s head. “She’s very convincing already when it comes to her fashion choices.” 

“I won’t pay for college if she decides to become a lawyer,” Matt said decisively.

“It’s cute that you think we’ll be able to pay for college for her at all,” Foggy told him. Dolly agreed in a pointed stream of monosyllabic nonsense. She punctuated it with enthusiastic patting of Foggy’s arm. 

“I have witness summons for both of you,” Karen said abruptly, pulling two envelopes out of her purse. “They were delivered to the office, so I thought I’d bring them over. Mine came too.” 

“You have to witness, too?” Foggy asked. He removed Dolly from his lap and sat her up next to him. 

“I was on the front end of all the Union Allied stuff. Of course I have to witness, too,” she said breezily. “Early evidence of corruption, and all that.” 

“Right. They ever get wind of all that Nancy Drew-ing you were doing with Ben?” Dolly toppled over into Foggy’s lap at this, and made an indignant noise at her uncomfortable position. Foggy sat her back up, and she busied herself with trying to shove a nearby pillow off the couch. 

“No,” Karen said carefully. “That would violate my NDA with whatever Union Allied’s holding company was, or whoever they are now. I don’t know. Ben was always supposed to take credit.” Her voice had gotten small at the end of the sentence, and Foggy felt bad for bringing it up. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “We can drop it.” Dolly patted his knee in approval.   
______________

The days during trial were often long and unexciting. Matt was frustrated at only being able to have a piecemeal experience of it all. He wasn’t allowed to go on the days Foggy and Karen were witnessing, and vice versa. He knew these were the rules, but all the same it felt very cloak-and-dagger. So the bulk of it got swept up in a haze of procedure, made more confusing by the fact of his relegation to the back of the courthouse. He managed to arrive when the rest of the seats had been filled, and had to perch in an aisle seat in the very back. This complicated the process of picking out individual voices in the trial, as he didn’t know any of the lawyers well enough to immediately recognize their tones. 

The trial’s narrative threads tangled around him and had to be deconstructed at the end of the day with the help of whatever news he could find, and a breakdown from anyone else he knew that was there that day. It was a frustrating process, not being able to pick apart voices as well as he’d like. 

Until the day a voice showed up to witness that he had heard before. 

“Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, under pains and penalties of perjury?” 

“I swear.” He’d know that rich, smooth accent anywhere. 

“Vanessa,” he hissed at Foggy, who was next to him that day. 

“His _girlfriend_? That Vanessa?” Foggy whispered back. Matt shook his head. Her existence still baffled him. 

“I know, I know.” Matt patted Foggy’s hand, trying to communicate some level of the trepidation he was feeling at her upcoming testimony. He gestured back to the front of the room as the questioning began. 

“Miss Vanessa Mariana, please state for the court your relationship to the defendant.” The prosecutor sounded sharp, and out for blood. 

“Wilson Fisk and I were engaged.” She spoke evenly, though Matt thought he heard an edge of anger in her voice. 

“And you had been in a relationship with the defendant for how long?” 

“Several months.” She spoke the length of time quickly, though Matt wasn’t sure if the implication was that she wished it were longer or was embarrassed it was that long in the first place. 

“Were you aware of his criminal activity?” 

Vanessa paused. “Not initially.” Matt had a hard time believing this. Her job as an art dealer offered a reliable guise of respectability. But when he’d met her on the outside of the courtroom, her smooth talk betrayed the innocent front. 

“You became aware of it as the relationship progressed?” 

“I became aware of the extent of it, yes.” 

“Were you ever involved personally in these activities?”

“I never did anything, if that’s what you mean.” Vanessa was deflecting. Matt heard an upward tick in her voice. She knew how to play the system. It sounded like this wasn’t her first rodeo.

 

“But you didn’t stop him, or try to inform the authorities.” 

“It didn’t seem necessary.” 

“Not necessary?” The prosecutor sounded a bit incredulous, but she quickly regained control over her tone of voice. 

“I’m not a police officer.” Again with the deflecting. Matt recognized the carefully constructed lie in the tone of voice from the officers that worked for Fisk. Always hiding something. He told this to Foggy, placing a surreptitious hand on the small of his back. 

“You think?” Foggy whispered back to him, and then he winced. 

“What’s wrong?” Matt asked.

“She just looked at me.” Foggy sounded more unnerved than he had been when face to face with Fisk’s cronies. 

“She can’t read your mind, Foggy.” Matt tried to be reassuring.

“Maybe not, but you can’t see this death glare right now. She knows something.” Foggy was insistent.

“She doesn’t know anything. There’s no way.” But Matt wasn’t as sure as he wanted to be. The prosecutor continued questioning. 

“And Miss Mariana, you were complicit in Fisk’s racketeering and violent encounters.” 

“I was never there for any of them.”

 

“You did know about them, though?” Matt could hear tension building in the prosecutor’s voice, like she wanted to shout. 

“Yes.” Vanessa responded almost teasingly--daring the prosecutor to lose control.

“You knew about them, and you never felt the obligation to report them until right after Fisk was taken into custody.” The lawyer’s voice was shaking slightly, but control was maintained. 

“Correct.” Vanessa’s enunciation was crisp. 

“What was the motivation behind you breaking off your engagement?” 

“I would have thought that obvious.” 

“His arrest?” The prosecutor tried to clarify. 

“And my pregnancy.” 

The courtroom went utterly silent, enough for Matt to hear a tiny inhalation of surprise on the part of the prosecutor. It was quickly drowned out by Foggy’s stream of invectives in his ear. He traced small circles in Foggy’s lower back to get him to quiet down. 

“Fisk was the father of your child?” 

“Was.” 

“How could _Fisk_ father a child?” Foggy sounded livid. “Of all the people who don’t deserve to be a parent.” 

“I know, I know,” Matt continued his mini-massage of Foggy’s back while the prosecutor dug deeper. 

“The baby didn’t survive?” 

“I didn’t keep it. No need for such _garbage_.” The way Vanessa emphasized the last word made Matt’s stomach churn. Her disregard was palpable, and apparently the accused could feel it too. 

“Vanessa,” Fisk’s voice rose up and Matt could hear its desperation. “Where is the baby?” 

“Mr. Fisk, no questions may be addressed to the witness from you.” A new voice cut in, and a whispered commentary from Foggy told Matt it was the judge. 

“Vanessa,” Fisk pleaded.

“Mr. Fisk.” The judge was insistent, and Fisk didn’t speak again. 

Matt’s heart was picking up its pace, though whether he was experiencing apprehension or anger he couldn’t be sure. He waited until proceedings had closed for the day, and then took Foggy aside once they were home. 

“I think she’s Fisk’s,” he told him, jabbing his head in the direction of Dolly, who was gnawing on a teething ring while Karen watched her. 

“I was getting that idea, too,” Foggy said grimly. “What with ‘garbage’, and all. As if anyone could throw out _her_.” They watched the baby methodically chew the entire surface area of the ring, drool dripping down onto her chin. Matt smiled, and then the obvious hit him.

“Shit,” Matt said. 

“What?” Foggy asked.

“We can’t give her back,” Matt said. 

“Of course not,” Foggy agreed. “She stays with us.” 

“But how do we make sure Vanessa doesn’t ask for her back?” 

“Vanessa doesn’t need to know that we found her.” Foggy was firm, but his “everything’s-gonna-be-fine” act didn’t fool Matt. 

“What if she finds out?” Matt persisted. “You were pretty freaked out back there.” 

“She might never find out. She may not even know that Dolly is alive.” Foggy sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. 

Matt opened his mouth to reply again, but Foggy cut him off, sounding fractionally more secure this time. 

“If she or Fisk do find out, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” 

Matt reached for Foggy and found his hand. “Take me over to our baby,” he told him. 

They went over to sit next to Dolly, who happily clambered into Matt’s lap and hit him with her drooly teething ring.

“Lovely,” he remarked, wiping the spit out of his eyes. Dolly giggled and pulled herself up to a near-standing position in Matt’s lap, digging her little feet painfully into his ankles. 

“She’ll be fine,” Karen said, who had been listening to their conversation. “We’ll keep her safe.” Karen sounded just like Foggy had. But Matt appreciated the effort. 

“We need custody,” Matt said. “Full custody. Whatever it takes.” Dolly toppled from her almost-standing back to sitting. 

“I’ll call someone at CPS,” Foggy agreed. 

“Ma ma ma,” Dolly said encouragingly, smacking Matt again with the teething ring.


	14. Vanessa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A FLASHBACK. 
> 
> Please note, I picture Fisk and Vanessa's relationship as one full of tension. Fisk is a wildly abusive man when he's doing all his criminaly things, so I think he'd be similar with Vanessa. No violence or verbal abuse happens in this chapter, but it bubbles below the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I change how Vanessa and Fisk got engaged. 
> 
> Thanks for the kind words regarding the previous chapter! It was a tough one to write and I'm glad it had the desired effect. ;) Please let me know what you think of this one, comments are writer's fuel.
> 
> As always, come find me on the [tumblr machine](http://www.ecologistsarealwaysfine.tumblr.com) and talk to me about your daredevil headcanons if you want. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. :)

Eighteen months earlier 

“Shit,” Vanessa stared down at the plastic stick in her hand. “Shit,” she said again. 

“What is it?” Fisk’s voice came through the other side of the door. 

“Nothing,” she said quickly, pocketing the test in her back pocket. It would have to be dealt with later. 

“Are you nearly ready for dinner?” Fisk took date night very seriously. 

“You know I like my privacy in getting ready, Wilson,” she kept her tone light. 

“I know you do.” His tone was affectionate. She pulled on the dress she had chosen for their night out. Skintight and deep red, just the way Fisk liked her. 

“Zip the back for me?” she asked, coming out of the ensuite. Fisk obliged and pulled her zipper up with delicate fingers, a delicateness no one else would have expected from him. She liked that, being the only one to experience his gentleness. It was a pleasant distraction. 

“Wesley has a car waiting for us out back.” He turned her around, taking her hands into his own. Calloused hands. Hands that had committed more unspeakable acts than Vanessa was ever willing to acknowledge. But gentle hands all the same. Gentle for her. 

Fisk maintained polite conversation on the way over. He had begun an exploration into the extent of her artistic knowledge, which was something she loved to talk about. They rarely ran out of things to discuss, as Fisk’s amateur knowledge of art and its history was growing. He was an eager learner, and it gave Vanessa great satisfaction to see him pick up on things so quickly. 

“Is a day going to come where we dine out in public among other people?” Vanessa allowed Fisk to pull out the chair for her. He sat opposite her and looked around the otherwise empty restaurant.

“I don’t like being around….people.” Fisk sounded halfway between misanthropy and genuine anxiety. 

“I know you don’t.” She extended a hand across the table, palm up. He took it. They were silent for several moments while the waiter filled their wine glasses and brought out the appetizer. His eyes were fixed on her with a slight uptick in their usual intensity. 

“Do you have something you want to tell me?” He ran a thumb over her hand before removing it to start in on his appetizer. 

“I love bruschetta,” she said, concentrating diligently on the plate in front of her. 

“You’ve been sick the past couple of mornings. And you haven’t, well…” he trailed off meaningfully, and took a bite of his appetizer. 

“Do you track my period?” Vanessa wasn’t sure whether to be offended or flattered. Or unsettled. 

“You’re late,” Fisk said simply. She ate more of her bruschetta, contemplating this new insight into the breadth of Fisk’s knowledge. 

“I am late,” she acknowledged. “Test was positive.” She could feel Fisk’s eyes on her, but couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with him. This was all a far bigger step than she anticipated taking. She pushed her food around her plate with the fork.

“I’m having trouble discerning your feelings about this,” he said. He reached for her occupied hand, but she didn’t give it to him.

“It’s because I don’t have any yet,” she said carefully. She didn’t touch her wine. The waiter noticed and brought out water.

“I think it’s good news.” His voice had gotten very small, and sounded almost happy. She looked up at him, and a small smile was playing at his lips. 

“I wouldn’t have thought children to be your area,” she said. She put down her fork and took his outstretched hand again. “Do you want to be a father, Wilson?” 

“I always have,” he told her. Vanessa had to bite the insides of her cheeks to prevent her surprise from showing on her face. The most terrifying man in all of Hell’s Kitchen, delighted at the prospect of fatherhood. 

“It’s still a while before I’ll get my first scan. And I’m not sure if I want to keep the child.”

“You wouldn’t want to put a child of _mine_ up for adoption, would you?” Fisk’s voice had taken on an edge, one that Vanessa recognized and knew how to push back on. 

“No, not adoption.” Vanessa finished her water. 

“You wouldn’t _think_ of terminating the pregnancy?” Fisk crumpled up his napkin.

“Is that really your decision, Wilson?” 

“Is it entirely yours?” She remained calm. It wouldn’t do to give Fisk a foothold with any weakness. 

“It’s _my_ child as much as it is yours, Vanessa, and I--” He stopped himself to take a deep breath before continuing. Vanessa leaned back in her chair. The waiter was bringing out the main course. 

“I’ll get the first scan,” she told him. This seemed to placate him. They dug into their lasagna, and the conversation went back to art for the remainder of the evening. 

_______________

The first scan showed a healthy child growing inside Vanessa. It brought along with it renewed attention from Fisk, and it lulled her into some sense of security. He grew less tense as the pregnancy progressed, more kind and less prone to outbursts. This was something she could live with; perhaps parenthood was more powerful a force than she believed it to be. 

For awhile there, Vanessa felt like perhaps she could pretend to be normal. That maybe it wasn’t a horrifically bad idea to bring a child into her relationship with Wilson Fisk. Not that she hated the relationship itself, of course. It brought her influence and protection that she couldn’t buy. But at first blush, bringing a child in seemed like a bad idea. Now, though, Fisk went on at night over possible baby names, where the child’s room would be, and how the child would be sent to the best schools the city could offer. Maybe they could pull it off. 

As she grew larger and more uncomfortable, Fisk had her stay in his apartment more frequently. He sent someone to cover for her at the gallery, though how Fisk knew the employees well enough to arrange this was beyond her. It was good to not have to be on her feet all day, but she couldn’t shake the sneaking feeling of being caged in. Like a prize breeder about to birth a healthy new stock. 

Her final trimester wore on, and she noticed the restlessness. Restlessness in Fisk’s network and the increasing stress in his work when he came home more than three nights in a row with blood on his hands. Vanessa knew well enough by this point not to ask him about these things, and she could easily assume what had happened. But he was generally so careful about bringing the violence home with him like this, and so her unease grew. 

There was a lull in the tension one evening. She was due in just a couple of days, and was spending most of her time in a satin dressing-gown and slippers. Fisk volunteered to cook for her that evening, another thing she would not have expected him to be skilled at. But he produced a delicious lasagna, and the conversation flowed as easily as it had before his work had grown so stressful. 

“I don’t know why we eat out so often when restaurant quality was available this whole time,” she told him upon finishing her lasagna. She leaned back in her chair and placed a hand on top of her stomach. 

“You flatter me.” Fisk sounded pleased. 

“Oh no,” Vanessa said. “Just telling the truth.” She watched him for a moment as he finished his own plate. He wasn’t looking up at her, and once he was done he began digging around in his pocket for something. “Lost your cufflinks?” she asked him. 

“I meant to do this in a much more romantic context.” Fisk appeared to have found what he was looking for. He drew out a gorgeous diamond ring, and Vanessa found herself unable to breathe for a moment. “It was going to be after a lavish night out, you were going to find it somewhere special, but I couldn’t wait anymore.” He rose from his chair and knelt beside Vanessa.

“Wilson, I,” she began, but couldn’t continue. She was transfixed by the ring and the raw, vulnerable expression on Fisk’s face. 

“You would make me the happiest man in the state. I’d say reliably in the whole country.” He took her left hand. “Will you marry me, Vanessa?” 

She felt her eyes filling (somewhat involuntarily) with tears, and nodded. Fisk slid the ring on her finger. She took his face in her hands and kissed him, her tears mingling with a stray one of his. 

The haze of happiness from the engagement lasted through her successfully giving birth at home under the watchful eye of a physician Fisk had hired (or possibly conscripted) to come to their home. Their baby girl (whom they had named Marlene, for his mother) was three days old when a brigade of police officers showed up at their front door and took Fisk away. 

Vanessa barely remembered the entire event, as it happened so quickly after the birth of her daughter. In retrospect, she would realize that it had been coming for awhile now, and she should have recognized it sooner. All she knew in the moment, watching the man she had grown to love being taken away from her, was that the child now felt like a curse instead of a blessing. The baby sobbed through the night, and would not be consoled for days. 

Fisk had left her written instructions to meet him at a helipad after he had some time to plan an effective escape, and this gave her a small spring of hope. She hired a nanny to alleviate the pressure of caring for a child on her own, and prepared for meeting Fisk after his escape. Vanessa and her daughter waited on the helipad for hours at the appointed time for Fisk, but he never came. When Vanessa was notified by the helicopter pilot that his escape attempt had gone awry, she returned home in a state. 

“I can’t take care of this child anymore,” she told the nanny. The nanny had just finished bottle feeding the baby and put her to bed.

“Sure you can,” the nanny tried to reassure her. “Sure you can. You’ll be a great mother. She’s only a couple of months old. Give her some time, at least until she can sit up, before you make any rash decisions.” 

“I can’t,” Vanessa repeated, and locked herself in her room back in Fisk’s apartment. It was like living in a graveyard, staying where he used to live. She saw his shadow around every corner, sometimes the gentle one that would surprise her with charming dinners, and more often the nightmarish one home from committing god knew what crime in the name of bettering the city. 

The nanny stuck with her as long as they pay lasted, which was only a few more months. When she realized she wouldn’t be paid anymore, she turned in her notice and tried to tell Vanessa. 

“I have to be able to support myself,” the nanny was calling through the door. But Vanessa still wouldn’t come out. Her sadness had hardened into anger, but it wasn’t enough to face her child yet. “Your daughter needs you,” the nanny told her. “She’s safe in her crib, for now, but you’ve got to be there for her. She needs you.” 

When she heard the nanny shut the door behind her, Vanessa ventured out of the room to the crib where her daughter lay. The baby stared up at her with big, brown eyes, and looked absolutely delighted to see her. Vanessa reached into the crib and lifted the baby out, and the child cooed at her. Her heart used to be moved by these things, but now it just felt cold and stony. 

She had to free herself from all this.


	15. Teething and other activities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dolly is teething.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there may be a bit of a break coming up in posting here. I'm about to go on an extended-ish break wherein I'll have very little internet access. I'm leaving you some fluff now so it's not a cliffhanger, but don't think I've abandoned the fic! I'm just venturing into no-internet land and it's taking a brief hiatus. I think I should be able to do one more chapter before I go, though. Just giving ya'll a heads up. 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think. I love hearing from ya'll. <3

Matt woke up to Dolly’s ear-splitting wails. Foggy started next to him, and felt around the bedside table for something. Probably a light. Matt reached over to pat whatever bit of Foggy he could reach. 

“I’ll get her,” he told Foggy. 

“Are you sure? It’s been a rough night,” Foggy yawned hugely. 

“It’s my turn. I’m sure.” His hand found Foggy’s cheek and he kissed it. Foggy hummed happily at the contact, and then collapsed back into bed. Matt felt his way downstairs to Dolly’s crib, and her cries abated somewhat the closer he got. 

“What’s the matter, Doll?” he asked her, reaching into the crib. She grabbed his thumbs with her little hands, and he used this as a reference point to lift her cleanly out of the crib. Dolly continued to whimper, and buried her head in Matt’s shoulder. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I think there’s still a bottle in the fridge.” They walked slowly into the kitchen together. Dolly had downgraded from outright wails to a stream of little cries that she was trying very hard to suppress. Matt noticed and chuckled as he felt around in the fridge for her bottle. 

“Poor thing, you can cry,” he reassured her. “Is it your teeth, too?” New teeth had begun to come in over the past several months, and Dolly wasn’t taking well to the pain. Foggy and Karen had found her teething rings that could be frozen, and the cool material against her gums seemed to be marginally effective. He sat on the couch and held the bottle close to her head. She gripped it on the side with one hand and strained her head upwards off of Matt’s arm to suckle at it dejectedly. 

“Glad you like that formula,” he told her. She lifted her other hand to the other side of the bottle so that she was holding it independently, and Matt felt it wrench out of his grip. “Alright, alright,” he said, smiling. “Little miss independent.” Dolly squeaked at him. 

She signaled that she was done with the bottle by dropping it onto the ground. Matt figured he’d deal with that later, and he lifted Dolly up into a seated position so she could digest. She seemed pacified by the food for a few minutes, but following that she began to cry again. 

“I think she wants the teething ring, Matty,” Foggy was coming down the stairs. His voice was scratchy with sleep, and he yawned again. Foggy gave this tiny sigh whenever he yawned, a tiny satisfied sigh that Matt always listened for. He loved getting to catalogue Foggy like this, little sounds and smells that built up a more intimate knowledge of this person he had grown to adore. 

Foggy brought over the teething ring from the freezer and lifted Dolly from Matt’s lap.  
“Do you mind?” he asked Matt. 

“All good, buddy.” Matt leaned back into the couch. “How long does teething go on for?” 

“A while,” Foggy said. “It can last for a year. Sometimes more.” Matt gave a low whistle.

“Geez.” He exhaled. “Guess we won’t be sleeping for a bit then, huh?” 

“I know,” Foggy sympathized. “It’s like the feeling when your wisdom teeth start to erupt, though. Really painful, only you’re little like Dolly and don’t know why it’s happening.” Dolly was sucking noisily on the teething ring, and her whimpers had subsided completely for the time being. 

“Wish we could explain it to her,” Matt said earnestly. “I would hate that.” 

“You probably did hate it,” Foggy told him, amusement tinging his voice. “You just don’t remember.” 

“Fair enough,” Matt responded, rubbing his temples. “I’m tired.” Foggy scooted closer to him on the couch and removed his fingers from his temples. 

“You do a good job,” he told Matt, and kissed his temple. Matt felt a now-familiar jolt slice through him at the contact. He waited until the initial flash dissolved into pleasant crackles of electricity, and turned towards Foggy to kiss him properly. 

They’d had quite a bit of practice at this lately, and each time it grew easier for Matt to handle. Though he had yet to lose the sensation of submersion when he kissed Foggy. Lately it felt more like slipping into a hot bath-something comfortable and all-enveloping and safe. 

Foggy’s kisses were lazy and loose with sleep. Matt reached towards him to run a hand through his hair, and Foggy made a contented noise in the back of his throat. They remained this way for a few moments, exchanging kisses in the still-dark early morning. Foggy pulled away first and chuckled softly.

“She’s fallen asleep again,” he told Matt, his voice dropping low. 

“Oh, good,” Matt was relieved. It was more than a little intimidating to think about Dolly being upset about her teeth all night long. He felt Foggy’s weight lift from the couch, and listened to his shuffling footsteps carrying Dolly back to her crib. Dolly’s rapid heartbeat had slowed and regulated itself, convincing Matt that she was actually asleep. Foggy’s footsteps came back towards him.

“Back to bed?” He put a hand on Matt’s shoulder, and Matt took it in his own to brace himself getting up from the couch.   
“Back to bed,” he agreed. He took Foggy’s arm and they walked up the stairs together.   
___________________________

Foggy waited for Matt to get comfortable before he got under the covers. It was amazing to him how quickly this had become routine, sleeping in the same bed as Matt. In the space of a few short months they had transitioned from dancing around one another to sleeping in the same bed every night. Foggy shook his head. Amazing.

“What,” Matt asked him, groggily patting the space next to him.

“Nothing,” Foggy reassured him, climbing in next to Matt.

“You’re thinking loudly. I can practically hear the cogs in your brain spinning.”

“That another one of your superpowers these days?” 

“I have all the superpowers.” Matt reached for Foggy. Foggy took his hand and kissed his palm. 

“I’m just happy, is all.” 

“Our daughter is biologically the child of the two most dangerous people in town, and adoption services are moving even maddeningly slower than usual. You’re happy about that?” Matt’s sleepiness had left him and he sat up. Foggy frowned.

“How long has this been on your mind?” he asked.

“Long time,” Matt said. 

“We’ll figure it out, Matty.” 

“Do you really believe that? Fisk might be locked up for now, but Vanessa probably still has access to his entire network.” Matt rubbed his temples. 

“You can’t dismantle Fisk’s network. Even without Fisk in it. Not by yourself.” 

“You’re evading the question.” 

“Yes, I’m worried,” Foggy folded his arms. “Of course I’m worried. I’m in a near-constant state of fear ever since Dolly was dropped into our lap. There’s a million things that could hurt her, each scarier than the last, and there’s just the three of us against who knows how many thugs Fisk still has prowling around in the dark. God, of course I’m worried.” 

“She’s just so _little_ ,” Matt said. 

“She’s fragile,” Foggy agreed. “But I’ve got at least a little faith.” He cupped Matt’s face in his hands. “We’re a team now, Matty. I mean, I guess we kind of always have been but especially now, we’re a team. We have to have a little faith in that, because otherwise the fear is utterly paralyzing.” 

“Did I miss the time in your life where you suddenly became so wise?” 

“I’d say you missed a lot while you were trying to fight the power on your own, buddy.” Foggy kissed his forehead. “And I’ve always been wise.” He kissed each of Matt’s temples in turn. 

“Not when you tried to steal a box of bagels from L&Z, you weren’t.” Matt’s quick retort seemed to Foggy like an attempt to distract from the rising color in his cheeks. 

“You only get cuter when you’re trying to be sassy, Matty,” Foggy informed him, moving on to his cheeks and jawline. 

“I’m not cute,” Matt protested. “I’m the devil of hell’s kitchen.” His cheeks were flushed deep red by this point. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Murdock,” Foggy said placatingly, and captured Matt’s lips again. God, he loved this. Watching Matt slowly come to pieces beneath him, and knowing that he was the cause of it. He bit down gently on Matt’s lower lip and tugged, pleased with the resulting noise it produced. Matt’s hands found themselves on Foggy’s back, drawing him as close together as possible from their seated positions, until Foggy decided to straddle Matt in order to get as flush up against each other as they could. 

“God, Foggy,” Matt hissed as Foggy settled in. 

“One and the same,” Foggy grinned against Matt’s lips and re-occupied himself. He gasped a little as Matt wound his hands in his hair and tipped the kiss from languid to much more heated territory. Matt’s hands began to drift further south, tracing down Foggy’s body and leaving little trails of goosebumps in their wake, until they arrived between Foggy’s legs.

“Is there a reason you’re still wearing pants?” Matt’s voice was low and urgent in his ear.

“Are you going to do something about it?” Foggy had moved on from Matt’s lips to his neck and was quite content to stay where he was, until Matt managed to flip him over onto his back. It took him a few moments to find Foggy’s waistband and pull the pants off, but the fumbling made the anticipation that much better. Once Foggy was fully exposed, Matt paused. Foggy looked up at him.

“God’s sake, Murdock, don’t leave me hanging,” he scolded the brunette. 

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re already hung,” Matt fired back, and they fist bumped. But Matt still didn’t continue.

“What is it? Mood left you?” Foggy asked.

“No,” Matt said slowly. “I think I want…” he trailed off, and looked like he was trying to gather his words. “I think I want to try it.” 

“Are you sure?” Foggy sat up and put his hands on Matt’s shoulders. “We can have lots of fun without that.” 

“No, I,” Matt struggled for words. “I want to feel you. I’m ready.” Foggy felt a bit like someone had sucked all the air out of his lungs. 

“Right,” he said. “Okay. Okay.” He swung his legs off the bed and rifled around in his drawer for the appropriate supplies. “But promise me you’ll tell me if it hurts,” he said, brandishing lube he knew Matt couldn’t see. 

“I promise,” Matt confirmed. “I promise.” 

“Alright.” Foggy leaned in and kissed him. “Lay back, then.” He took his time in preparing Matt, moving gently and intentionally as though Matt were a finely crafted glass sculpture.

“You don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass, Fogs,” Matt breathed. 

“It’s not your pride I’m trying to avoid hurting,” Foggy told him. 

“I want more.” Matt’s voice was heavy with want, so Foggy gave him more until he was open and pliant.

________________

Matt felt utterly blown apart by sensation. Foggy had entered him steadily and carefully, and Matt marveled at the intimacy of their connection. 

“More,” he told Foggy, barely managing to form a complete word. He listened for Foggy’s heartbeat with what little of his coherent mental faculties he had left, and it was racing along like a hummingbird. 

Then Foggy started up a rhythm, and Matt lost the ability to think clearly altogether. Everything in his mind was consumed by _Foggy_ , by the weight atop him, by his smell, by the connection between them that felt like they were bound at the heart, and that Matt could feel Foggy’s heartbeat as though it were his own. 

The approach of his orgasm was in time with increasingly erratic thrusts from Foggy, thickening and charging the air between them. He fisted his hands in the sheets, a steady canto of soft cries escaping his throat, weaving together with Foggy’s rhythmic moans. Their joint symphony reached a simultaneous crescendo, the sound floating up to the ceiling while they rode out the aftershocks together. 

“Holy shit,” Matt gasped once he was able to speak again.

“Right?” Foggy responded, equally breathless. 

“Holy shit,” Matt said again. Foggy laughed, and rolled over to kiss Matt’s forehead again, but landed closer to his eyebrow. 

“You won’t sleep if you don’t rinse off,” Foggy told him, tugging at his arm to get him to sit up.

“Only if I get to wash your hair.” Matt swung his feet off the bed to follow Foggy into the ensuite. 

“Get in the shower, Murdock,” Matt heard the grin in Foggy’s voice, and took that as a yes.


	16. Permanent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa mulls over what she learned at trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I promised one more chapter before the official hiatus! I may be able to squeeze one more in on my layover before leaving the country, but in the meantime here's this one. For those of you new to the fic, it'll be taking a 4-week hiatus while I tromp around eastern Africa and hopefully see some elephants. I'll hopefully draft some new material while gone, but internet access will be spare. So I haven't forgotten about the fic, I'm just out of the country! 
> 
> as always, let me know what you think. :)

Vanessa sat in her penthouse, swirling a glass of merlot in her left hand. With her right hand she twirled a pen and wrote on a pad of paper. The city stretched out before her beyond the wall-to-wall windows she'd had installed once she moved in. It was similar to the place she had shared with Fisk, but distinctly her own. The curtains that were now rolled up at the top of the windows were deep red--blood red, almost. The walls were adorned with paintings much too complex for Fisk's taste. This was something she had missed while living with him. Vanessa loved "Rabbit in a snowstorm" too, but when one's tastes were almost exclusively aligned to the monochromatic, life began to take on a similarly dull hue. 

But this new place was much richer. Her curtains were complemented by a long leather couch that stretched across the east wall of the penthouse, so that when Vanessa had her coffee in the morning and looked through the day's news, the sun rose over her shoulder and flooded the place with light. Her kitchen and oak dining table were at the other end. The kitchen was state-of-the-art, outfitted with stainless steel appliances all the way through that she used when the inspiration struck, and more often when she had a chef over or a willing one-night stand. 

She was stretched out on the leather couch now, tracing the words "Nelson and Murdock" on the pad of paper. Nelson and Murdock. The pair of lawyers that had her daughter, of this much she was absolutely certain. She knew they were the ones responsible for putting Fisk away in the first place, and remembered very clearly meeting Murdock in her gallery one day several months back. He had tried and failed to pretend like he was a serious art-buyer. She scoffed at the memory. A man in a suit like that could barely afford to keep the lights on, much less purchase one of her pieces. 

Nelson and Murdock. The pair responsible for destroying her life were now raising her child. She had seen a hint of it in the eyes of Nelson during the trial, a flash of panic when she spoke about what she had done with the baby following Fisk's permanent arrest. A brief meeting with one of the few police officers still loyal to Fisk confirmed that the pair had reported finding the child to Protective Services, and that permanent custody had been obtained. She took a sip of the wine and half-smiled. Permanent was quite a flexible word in her experience. 

Being responsible for the actual rearing of the child still struck Vanessa as an undesirable task, especially one to take on alone. She stared around her opulent penthouse, and tried to imagine a young toddler running around the main room and into the master bedroom, hiding in the closet and splashing in the shower. She shut her eyes. These were all visions of motherhood she tried to convince herself would be joyous. Now they had a shadow cast over them, dark and blood-soaked on the edges. She tried to force some light into the visions. She would have to. She couldn't allow Nelson and Murdock this final victory. 

Vanessa picked up her phone from the bedside table and made a call. 

"Ritz," she said when the man on the other end picked up. "I want you to set it in motion. Yes, I know it went through, but I'm not phased by that. She's not safe with those two, and I want her out of that household. Start with the secretary." 

She hung up and finished her wine. She would decide what was permanent. 

_________

Dolly was hesitantly beginning to pull herself up on things. Foggy was enthralled with this new development, and narrated it enthusiastically for Matt every time she did it. 

"Now she's pulling herself up on the coffee table leg," he told Matt. "She seems pretty steady, and-oh-" he stopped his narration to rush off the couch to pick up a distraught Dolly who had hit her head on the side of the coffee table as she was standing up. He spoke quiet, comforting words over her disappointed wails. 

"Unsuccessful, I take it?" Matt was grinning from the couch and patted the space next to him to encourage Foggy to bring the baby over. Foggy kissed the top of the baby's head and sat her in Matt's lap. 

"She tried really hard," Foggy said, trying to pacify Dolly who was still whimpering. "She did stand up yesterday while holding on to the couch." 

"Where was I?" asked Matt. He sounded a bit dismayed that he had missed this event. 

"Working on that manslaughter case." Foggy answered promptly. 

"Right." Matt took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. The case had been eating up his time over the past couple of weeks. He and Foggy had traded off watching Dolly while sifting through the case files, and this week was his turn to slog at the office. Home life with Dolly was infinitely more appealing. 

"Is Karen coming over for dinner?" Foggy took Matt's feet in his lap and began to massage them. This elicited a sound from the back of Matt's throat that made Foggy's ears go hot at the tips. "Not in front of the baby," he scolded Matt, who grinned like he knew exactly what he was doing. 

"Then stop giving such good massages, Fogs," said Matt, and groaned again as Foggy worked the balls of his feet. Dolly fiddled with the toy in her lap and elbowed Matt in the gut in the process. 

"See, the baby wants you to be decent in public," Foggy informed him. Dolly laughed in agreement, and elbowed Matt in the gut again. He shifted the baby's position so her arms weren't so close to his stomach.

"Alright, alright," Matt told the baby. "I'll save it for when you're asleep." 

"I hope that's a promise," Foggy said lightly, and Matt wiggled his toes. 

_______________

Karen was working late at the office that night. She had insisted Matt go home before dinner time to be with the baby, but he was only convinced after much wheedling. She shook her head as she looked through the purchase records of their client. He was stubborn as a mule when it came to slog-y cases like this one. 

The client was a middle-aged woman who had run over her garbage man while pulling out of her apartment's parking garage. Neither of them had been paying much attention to what was going on, apparently,and the garbage man had spent three days in critical care before dying of multiple crush injuries. Now his family was claiming it had been done on purpose, there were rumors of an affair gone wrong, and the whole thing was just turning very ugly. The latest thing Karen was investigating was whether the woman who committed the deed had been dealing with an alcohol problem. 

She finished cataloguing the client's purchase records on their new spreadsheet system. Time to go home. She began to gather up her things, and paused when she heard a knock at the door. 

"It's way past closing time," she said, moving towards the door. There was a scuttling sound outside of it, and she wondered if those damn rats were back. Following the closure of the Fisk case, they had finally gotten an exterminator in to deal with the various pests that infested their building. The trio had to wear masks for a solid week or so while they ducked in and out to get important things, and she hoped it wasn't all in vain right in this moment.

No one was at the door. 

"Not in the mood for ding-dong-ditchers," she called down the hall. "Come on, I'm about to go." More scuttling, though this time it sounded a tiny bit more like footsteps. Her heart rate picked up a beat. She backed slowly into the office once more, and darted over to the storage closet. Matt would not have approved of her acquisition of a Glock in the weeks following her capture by Wesley, but Karen hated feeling so unprotected when she was alone in the office or at home. So she acquired it legally, and kept it in close range at all times. 

Gun in a pair of shaking hands, she re-approached the door. Deep breaths in and out helped steady her grip, and she made sure she was completely steady before reopening the door. 

"This would be a great time to stop sneaking around," she informed the dead air. "I'm not in the mood to play games, and neither is my gun." She cringed at the sound of that last statement as it hung in the air around her. Better false confidence than obvious terror, she supposed. 

The scuttle-footsteps turned into full fledged footsteps again, and before Karen could whirl around completely she felt a blunt force hit the back of her neck, and she blacked out.


	17. Karen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt wakes up with a bad feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's with this chapter that I leave you for a hiatus! This is a less cliffhangery than the previous one, I didn't want to be tooooo mean. ;) 
> 
> I expect to have a new chapter posted sometime around August 20, so keep an eye out. Thanks for your patience and for sticking around, it is tremendously motivating to continue the story when there are supportive readers around like you all. Much love, and do let me know what you think. :D

Matt woke up with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He sat up in bed, listening hard. Eventually, Dolly's steady little heartbeat came onto his radar. He listened to its light thudding for a few minutes to reassure himself that she was okay. He smiled a little to himself. Steady as the sunrise, that one. 

He felt next to him in bed, his hand ending up on Foggy's elbow. Foggy grunted in his sleep. Foggy was still okay. Matt swung his feet over the side of the bed and felt in his bedside table for his phone. He pressed the center button and the voice activation sprang to life. 

"Call Karen," he instructed it. The phone parroted his command and dialed Karen's cell number. He left the bedroom and sat on the steps leading to the main floor while the phone rang out. No answer. He tried twice more, and got her voicemail each time. He slid the phone in the pocket of his pajama pants and went down the rest of the steps to check on Dolly. She noticed his approach and greeted him with a string of intelligent, multisyllabic babble. Within the string of babble he could make out the words "dada" and "papa", words he and Foggy had diligently been teaching her over the past several months. 

She had acquired a handful of more complex words, ones like "glasses" (which she used when patting the area near Matt's eyes) and "hair" (which she used when tangling her tiny fists in Foggy's elegant mane). Dolly repeated "glasses" several times over now as Matt lifted her gingerly from her crib, a task he had been growing more precise at with practice. He sat Dolly on his hip, and she patted his cheek. 

"Dada," she told him, and laid her little head down on his shoulder. 

"You still sleepy there Doll?" he asked her. 

"Dada," she said again, snuggling further into his shoulder. Matt turned his head to kiss her forehead. He walked around the kitchen a few times with the baby in his arms, keeping a hand by his side to make sure they didn't crash into anything. He fished his phone out of his pocket again after a few minutes and asked it to call Karen again. The pair leaned up against the kitchen counter while the phone worked.

Still no answer. 

"You want a bagel there, Matty?" Foggy was suddenly behind him, and Matt jumped. He was startled that he hadn't heard Foggy's approach. Foggy put a hand on Matt's waist and kissed his cheek by way of greeting. 

"I didn't mean to wake you up," Matt said.

"You didn't," Foggy told him, and padded around the kitchen to prepare their breakfast. Matt heard the freezer open (its mechanistic hum was slightly higher pitched than the refrigerator), and Foggy was offering Dolly something, presumably her teething ring. She accepted it and gummed at it with her head on Matt's shoulder, allowing him to feel the chill of the ring. 

"You heard from Karen?" asked Matt, trying to sound casual. He didn't want to get Foggy worried. 

"Nothing other than the usual, confirming her work hours and all." Foggy clattered around in a drawer for a bit, and withdrew something. 

"Haven't been able to get ahold of her." Matt resumed his slow walking with Dolly. 

"I'm sure she's alright," Foggy said in what he probably meant to be a pacifying manner, but it grated on Matt. 

"Just woke up with a bad feeling, was all."

"I'll call her." Foggy instructed his own phone to call Karen, and Matt listened for the ringing sound. "Voicemail," Foggy said after a moment. "Huh. She usually always picks up in the morning." 

"That's what I was thinking," Matt agreed. 

"It's my turn to go into the office," Foggy said. "I'll get ahold of her." 

_______

Karen woke up with a pounding in her temples. The light in the room was sterile and fluorescent. She massaged her temples and sat up. It occurred to her that the bed she was laying on had no cushion of any sort, and that would probably explain the stiffness in her joints. She took stock of her surroundings. Metal bed was already on the books. There was something silvery in the corner that looked like an industrial toilet, and a sink next to it. But no soap. Great. 

Some kind of jail cell. This was where they'd put her. She swung her legs off the side of the bed and paused until the nausea abated, a side effect of the pounding pain in her head. Before she was able to do much else, the door to her cell opened and a sturdy-looking uniformed man came into the room. He came into focus, and she recognized him.

"Ritz." 

"Karen." 

"So you were one of Fisk's, huh? I expected better of you. I hope they're at least paying you well." 

"Don't get smart with me. I know you like to feel like Annie Oakley with your Glock, but it's mine now." He patted his hip where Karen imagined the Glock was holstered. 

"So what's the deal, did you break Fisk out? Come to finally get me for everything that happened before that?" 

"I'm here on Vanessa's behalf, actually." He pulled a chair from another corner of the room and sat in it. Karen pursed her lips.

"What does Vanessa want." She spoke the woman's name as though it were poisonous. 

"Think really hard." 

"The boys have full custody. She can't take the baby back." 

"Do you really think something as petty and as changeable as the law is going to stop Vanessa from getting what she wants?" Ritz's mouth twisted into an irritating high-and-mighty smile. Karen's body tensed, she wanted to hit him. She sat up straighter, but that only brought on more nausea and pain. 

"I don't know what you expect to get from me," she told him. "Fisk's lapdog tried this kind of intimidation with me before. Maybe you heard how that went for him." Ritz's smile faltered a little at this, and that satisfied Karen, despite the sick feeling the memory stirred up in the pit of her stomach. 

"Wesley was idiotic to try to bluff you with a loaded gun," he spat. "I won't make that mistake." 

"Good to know you all aren't as stupid." 

"Enough talk," the man said. "You can bring me the baby yourself, or there will start to be consequences. I'll have to start cutting off key components of one Mrs. Urich's care, for instance." 

Now it was Karen's turn to falter. Ben's wife was still in palliative care following his death, something his will had provided for. Karen, having no other family to turn to, had taken to visiting with Mrs. Urich in her free time and talking to her about her trauma involving Wesley. Mrs. Urich's faulty memory meant that she never remembered what Karen said, and that suited Karen just fine. She had grown quite protective of the widowed woman.

"How did you know I was visiting with her," she asked, realizing it was probably useless to do so. 

"If you think Fisk's network completely dissolved just because he was arrested, then you are far more naive than I give you credit." Ritz folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "It would be a shame for Mrs. Urich not to get the pain meds she needs and to have to live her dreary days in agony." 

"You wouldn't," Karen said in a low voice. "After everything she's done for you while you were trying to get on the force. She fed you when you couldn't feed yourself. Does all that time you spent in her basement when you couldn't pay rent mean nothing to you?" 

One of Ritz's eyes twitched. "Past is the past," he said, waving a hand as if to force the thought away. It seemed to Karen that he was recalling his reliance on her when he was young and struggling for money. There had to be something in him that still felt he owed her for everything she had done. 

"She's a good person, Ritz," Karen continued. "She doesn't deserve to be the target of blackmail from a woman who never wanted to be a mother in the first place." 

Ritz laughed derisively. "You don't know the first thing about Vanessa."

"I know a dedicated mother would have never thrown her baby in a goddamn dumpster," Karen pushed on doggedly. 

"Circumstances were hard." 

"What, are you sleeping with her? Why the sudden defense of honor?" Karen was growing sarcastic. "I can't believe you, Ritz." He stood up suddenly from his chair. 

"That's the deal. You have 48 hours to bring the child to this address." He handed her an envelope. "After that, things start to disappear for Mrs. Urich." Ritz left the room, dropping her gun and her cell phone on the floor on the way out. He muttered something about sportsmanship as he did so, and Karen immediately scrambled for her belongings. Ritz left the door open and disappeared down a dark hallway.

The building that contained the jail cell was utterly foreign to Karen. She worked her way through a labyrinth of halls and floors before finally discovering an exit, a small sob escaping her throat at the feel of sunlight on her face. She got her bearings as quickly as she could, and headed back for Hell's Kitchen. Her phone still had a sliver of battery left.

Matt picked up on the first ring. "Where have you been?" He sounded slightly frantic.

"Just come get me," she said, dissolving into tears again. Holding it all back in front of Ritz did little for her self control now. She told Matt the nearest cross street, and collapsed on the sidewalk, emotion and anxiety bubbling out of her in sobs that wracked her whole body.


	18. Ritzy Castles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio decide to establish surveillance on Ritz following what Karen tells them about her capture. A familiar but still frustratingly vague name turns up, and all are determined to keep Dolly safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The triumphant return of the fic! I have about two weeks before uni starts again and a horrific case of the flu, so hopefully I'll get another chapter up soon. ;) At any rate, there won't be another month in between chapters, at most a week providing this flu doesn't get any worse. 
> 
> Africa was incredible, thanks for all the good vibes. I saw lots of elephants, didn't get trampled, but did cry at them because they are just that beautiful. 
> 
> As always, comments are my bread and butter, so don't be shy! Thank you all so much for reading.

"Are you sure it was Ritz?" Foggy was pacing in the kitchen, waiting for a bagel he'd put in the toaster for Karen to pop up. 

"I work with him all the time getting records. It was Ritz." Karen was huddled up in a blanket on the couch, clutching a steaming cup of tea. Matt had brought her home and set her up on the couch, insisting that she be allowed to sleep through the night before being questioned. 

"Can't believe I didn't expect him to be in Fisk's pocket," Matt's voice was dangerously low. He sat across from Karen on one of the chairs. The tips of his fingers were steepled, and he was thinking hard. 

"He must have escaped the round of arrests following Fisk's arrest," Karen offered with little enthusiasm. She sipped her tea. Her bagel popped up, and Foggy began spreading butter on it rather violently. 

"So we have 48 hours to figure something out then," Matt said. He began tapping his middle fingers together rapidly. Karen had already told him a halting version of her story on the way home, but he had to confirm it for himself. 

"Closer to 36 now," Karen said. "I didn't tell them where either of you live." She rubbed her eyes.

"They probably already know." Foggy watched Matt fold and unfold his arms several times. He recognized the expression on his face. He didn’t like that expression. 

"I'll take care of it," Matt said suddenly, getting up from the chair. Like hell you are, Foggy thought. He put Karen’s bagel on a plate. 

"Ninja vigilante justice is not on the menu right now, Matt," Foggy delivered Karen's bagel to her and stood next to Matt, easing him back down into the chair. Matt looked mutinous, but allowed Foggy to sit him back down. 

"When did that become your decision?" He asked, voice still tense. He began drumming his fingers on the sides of the chair this time. 

"It's definitely not only your decision now," Foggy told him. He began rubbing what he hoped were soothing circles into Matt’s shoulder blades. His partner remained tense, but accepted the touch. "We're a team. You don't get to leave me here at home like a quivering flower, wondering if you're dead or not." 

"You're not a quivering flower,” grumbled Matt. The tapping began to let up. 

"You don't see me when I don't know where you are." Foggy folded his arms for effect, and then rolled his eyes at himself for not remembering about Matt and visual cues. 

"What about some low-key recon? I can at least go and listen in at Ritz's apartment, or something. See if Vanessa is really going to act on all this." 

Foggy considered this option, returning his hands to Matt’s shoulders. He looked at Karen, who was staring into her tea, clearly somewhere else. The bagel was getting cold.

"I can get on board with recon," Foggy said slowly. "Just, for the love of God, will you take a phone with you?" 

"I can get you a burner," Matt said. He finally began to relax into Foggy’s touch. 

"Ooh, does this make me your clandestine lover? I'll take that over quivering flower." Foggy was briefly caught up in some imagined secret romance surrounding a burner phone. Matt chuckled, though it was humorless. 

"You can just be my regular lover, Fogs," he told him.

"There's nothing regular about me," Foggy said indignantly, digging into Matt’s shoulders with more force than was strictly necessary. "I'm a goddamn catch!" 

"I know you are," Matt grinned, and reached up above him, ostensibly trying to grab some of his collar. Foggy caught his drift and leaned down to kiss him.

"God, get a room, you two," Karen had apparently snapped out of her reverie. She picked up her bagel. 

"Knew something would wake you up," Foggy smiled. It faded quickly as the gravity of their situation washed over him again. "How soon can you go, Matty?" 

"Need a few minutes to get dressed. Then I can take off." Matt made for the stairs up to the loft. 

"In the meantime, maybe I'll get Dolly some boy's clothes," mused Foggy. He looked over at the baby in the crib. She was happily smashing two of her teething rings together, obviously delighted at the noise they made. The corner of his mouth quirked up at the little girl’s antics, and he was briefly overcome with a rush of affection for his—well, his _daughter_. That’s what she was now, following the custody papers. 

“How will that help?” asked Karen miserably. 

“Maybe it will, maybe it won’t. It’s something.” Foggy didn’t add, It’s better than doing nothing. 

 

Matt arrived at a vantage point on a building opposite and above Ritz’s apartment silently. He was clad in his usual black clothing, complete with the mask over his eyes. He crouched down, focusing his attention on what was going on inside the apartment. Ritz had only just arrived home from work at the police station. He was on the phone, mid-diatribe. 

“I don’t have an option!” Ritz was saying. Matt strained his ears further. He heard the pattering of Ritz’s feet on the floor as he paced back and forth. He smelled over-roasted coffee and unwashed police uniform, something he had come to associate with Ritz a long time ago. It held a more malevolent note to it now. 

“You haven’t met her,” Ritz continued. “She’ll follow through.” A pause. “No, there’s no _logical_ reason I can see that she would want the baby after all this time.” More pacing. “People don’t change that much. You haven’t met her.” 

Matt shifted his weight and shook his head, trying to rid it of the other sounds from the apartment building that were creeping into his focus. A baby was crying from a floor below Ritz, one that sounded a lot like Dolly. It made his insides constrict uncomfortably. 

“Look, I can’t put Meena in any more danger,” Ritz continued. “I’m going to the penthouse tonight, 52nd and 11th. She promised to…” but here Ritz trailed off, apparently interrupted by whoever was on the other line. “I know what Fisk was like,” he spat. “I didn’t put myself in his line of fire then, and I sure as hell won’t now. Give me a goddamn break, Castle.” He hung up the phone. Matt heard his footsteps track back and forth on the apartment floor for several more minutes. 

Little else happened in the next hour Matt devoted to surveillance. Ritz began preparing his dinner, put in a load of laundry, and played truly horrifying country music that Matt had to plug his ears to avoid. 

“So he said he was going to Vanessa’s apartment?” Foggy said over the burner phone later. “Definitely Vanessa’s?” 

“Yes,” Matt answered impatiently. “Tonight. As in at sundown. What time is it now?” 

“Twenty minutes to sunset,” Foggy told him after pausing to check. Matt felt him hesitate on the other end of the phone. “I guess you had better get over there,” he said slowly. 

“I’ll call you again two hours after I get over there,” Matt told him, trying to ease the anxiety he knew was building in Foggy’s chest. 

“Do, or else I’ll be coming over to find you.” Foggy was trying to sound threatening, but the attempt was feeble. Matt managed an affectionate chuckle. 

“Ritz sounded like he himself was being threatened as well,” Matt added. 

“What?” 

“Yeah,” Matt continued. “Do you know anyone named Meena?” Matt hadn’t recognized the name when it was mentioned. 

“That’s his daughter,” Foggy said, sounding startled. “What the hell is she going to do to his daughter?” 

“Something he obviously doesn’t want,” Matt said grimly. There was something else niggling in the back of his mind from the overheard conversation. Give me a goddamn break, Castle, Ritz had said. Castle. Matt knew the name, but its origin was dancing just out of reach of his sharp mind, further away all the time. 

“So you’ll call in two hours?” Foggy asked, very obviously trying to hide the fear in his voice now. 

“Two hours,” Matt confirmed. He hung up the phone, and scampered off the roof into the coming darkness.


	19. At Vanessa's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt gathers intel at Vanessa's place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are moving closer to the story's flighty temptress, the climax. 
> 
> (My apologies for the unintentionalish innuendo and the mis-quoting of Dumbledore.) 
> 
> Let me know what you think. :)

Matt arrived at the intersection where Ritz had identified as the location of Vanessa’s penthouse. He recognized her scent immediately-expensive perfume, red wine, and that elusive smell of new furniture. He explored around the building until he found a set of fire escapes, and scaled them easily to find a good spot to listen in. The smell grew stronger the closer he was to the penthouse. 

“You have until morning to finish this, Ritz,” Vanessa was saying. Her toe was tapping impatiently.

“I know, I know. They’ll come through, I think.” Ritz sounded nervous. Matt cocked his head at the tone of voice. Unlike him.

“You think?” Vanessa’s voice was sharp. “You’re going to need to do much better than a goddamn _thought_ in order for everything to work where your daughter is concerned.” The tapping increased its tempo. Matt just barely heard Ritz’s sharp intake of breath. 

“I know they will. Karen was properly spooked, they’ll come through,” Ritz corrected himself, though his voice still lacked confidence. Matt wished he could be inside the penthouse to figure out what Vanessa had on Ritz’s daughter that was scaring him so much. He imagined someone holding Dolly ransom, and felt an uncharacteristic tug of sympathy for the cop. 

“You had better hope that they will.” Vanessa’s heels clicked across the apartment floor. She paced for several moments before Ritz broke the silence.

“If you don’t mind me asking--” he paused as Vanessa’s footsteps halted. Matt assumed he was getting a death stare. Ritz’s gulp was actually audible before he continued. “Why do you want the baby back so badly? They seem like they’ll take good care of her, and if you didn’t want her to begin with--” but here Ritz was cut off as Vanessa’s footsteps traveled swiftly towards him. Judging by his gasp and the faint scent of metal, Matt assumed Vanessa had put a knife to his throat. 

“While the answer to that question is undoubtedly a fascinating one,” Vanessa snarled, “I’m afraid this conversation is no longer private, and we will have to continue it at a different time.” 

This was when Matt felt the cold barrel of a gun press into his back. 

“Shit,” he breathed. 

“No sudden movements,” a deep voice ordered him, presumably a hired gun. The man tugged him uncomfortably through the window into Vanessa’s penthouse, allowing him to crash noisily to the floor. “I got the fly,” the henchman informed Vanessa, disdain dripping from his voice. Vanessa’s scent grew stronger as she walked over to Matt.

“This would usually be the part where I try to express surprise that you are here, but since your motives are so crushingly obvious I will get to the point.” Vanessa drew closer Matt and pressed a heel into his throat. He tried to swallow his gasp at the sudden pain. 

“You are not going to get to her,” Matt managed. He writhed slightly under her heel, but quickly found his legs immobilized by the hired gun. Ritz hadn’t moved. Matt could smell his fear. 

“Ah. Deathbed heroics have always been a weakness of mine.” Vanessa chuckled, but the sound was empty and cold. “I’m surprised your lonely soul is capable of loving anyone else, much less a creature as needy and as exhausting as a baby.” Matt stopped struggling against her for a moment. 

“Do you really think I would allow the man responsible for my fiance’s imprisonment to care for _our child_?” She spat. Matt was finding it harder to draw breath as she pressed her heel directly into his trachea. “And yes, I know _all_ about your alternate identity,” she added. “Freaks like you became much easier to spot after Captain America and that Stark character went public with their identities. Not so easy to keep secrets anymore.”

“Vanessa,” Matt rasped. 

“No,” she said harshly. “You don’t get to talk. You took everything from me, and it is past time for me to take it back.” 

“Then take it,” Matt hissed, reaching up and wrenching her foot off of him, bringing her crashing to the ground with an angry cry. He struggled for a few moments with the henchman holding his legs, but eventually kicked free and leapt to his feet. The ground’s minute vibrations told him Vanessa was getting back up, so he kicked her back down again, pinning her shoulders with his hands. She was breathing hard, but to Matt’s dismay, began to laugh.

“Oh, god, this is rich,” she gasped out, immobilized under Matt’s grip. “You love her as much as I thought I did. Once she’s gone, you’ll finally understand everything I went through.” 

“She won’t be gone,” Matt snarled. “You will be. You’re going to leave the country at first light, and take your cronies with you. If I don’t see that you’ve gotten on a plane first thing in the morning, I’ll find you and make sure you physically won’t be able to do so much as push yourself out of bed.” 

Vanessa said nothing. Matt felt her arms shift underneath him, and he redoubled his grip. 

“Well?” he snapped. “What’s it gonna be?” 

Then he felt a hard blow to the back of his neck, and everything went dark. 

______________

“It’s been two hours,” Foggy told Karen, who had the baby on her lap. “He hasn’t called.” 

“He’s probably fine,” Karen said, mostly to Dolly. 

“You don’t sound even a little bit convinced!” 

“I’m doing my best here, Foggy,” Karen looked up from the baby. Her eyes were slightly sunken and full of exhaustion. 

“I’m going to need more than that,” Foggy snapped, and immediately felt bad for doing so. Karen’s eyes filled with tears and she hastily busied herself with Dolly to try to hide it. Foggy sighed. A day might come when he wouldn’t bite out rude comments to people he cared about, but apparently that was not today. He stopped his pacing and went to sit next to Karen. He put an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it. 

“It’s fine,” she said hastily, scrubbing her eyes with a fist. Dolly patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. Foggy cringed as Dolly gave him a reproachful look. 

“It’s not fine,” he told her. “I’m worried and I took it out on you. It’s lame and I’m trying to not do it, but I’ve got a big mouth. I’m a big jerk, okay?” 

“You’re not a big jerk,” said Karen. A small smile was playing at the corners of her lips. Dolly was continuing to pat Karen’s shoulder, and punctuated each touch with one of her newly-acquired words: “Doggy”, “love” (with a prolonged emphasis on the ‘o’), and “bagel”. 

“I am,” Foggy continued. “I’m the stay-puft marshmallow monster who is mean to his friends and will eventually crush them all just by sitting on them.” Karen couldn’t keep back a peal of laughter at this, and Foggy felt he had made amends. 

“Bagel,” declared Dolly, decreeing the end to this topic of conversation. Karen laughed and kissed the top of her head. 

“Call him, then,” Karen told him after a few moments. “Call him. He’ll be happy to think that you’re thinking of him.” 

“Not when he’s in super secret ninja mode,” Foggy groused. “Then he’s more concerned about how big of a hero he can be.” Karen gave a bit of a watery chuckle.

“True as that may be,” she said, “you should still call him.” 

“Doggy,” agreed Dolly. Foggy caught her gaze and looked into his daughter’s eyes for a moment. His daughter. Her rich, brown eyes held more personality each day, and more understanding than he was willing to admit. He knew that babies always understood more than they could communicate, but sometimes Dolly’s understanding seemed to pierce right into his heart. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, a gesture of affection that Dolly accepted in a regal manner with her chin lifted high. 

Foggy removed the burner phone Matt had gotten for him and dialed the only number on it. 

The phone rang.

And rang. 

And rang. 

There was no voicemail enabled on the burner phone, so the connection just broke off after Matt didn’t answer. Foggy closed the phone and tapped it against his chin. 

“We have to trace it,” he said. “Like, GPS trace it.” 

“Do you know how to do that?” Karen asked.

“Daddy!” Dolly said enthusiastically. 

“Yeah, we’re gonna find Matty!” Foggy agreed. He ran upstairs to the loft to retrieve his computer and a few essential supplies. 

“You sure you know what you’re doing, Fogs?” asked Karen, who had taken to pacing the room and holding Dolly’s hand as she teetered along unsteadily. 

“A guy at the police station taught me how to do this,” he informed her. “I gave him really nice cigars.” Karen didn’t look totally convinced, but Foggy ignored this and went to work. Dolly crawled over to encourage him a few times by smashing her tiny fist on the computer keyboard, something Foggy stopped her in the middle of the second time. 

Foggy slammed his own fist down on the table once he finished setting up the trace. 

“Done?” asked Karen, bringing him over a glass of water from the kitchen.

“It’s tracing the burner now,” Foggy said, pointing to the screen. A map began to load from the top, revealing Matt’s location by means of a red dot. 

“Shit,” said Karen.  
“Dammit,” Foggy said, covering Dolly’s ears. 

“Love,” Dolly said solemnly, not paying attention to either of her caregivers. 

“That’s the site of Fisk’s arrest,” Karen said. 

“I recognized it,” Foggy nodded. “She’s returning to the scene of Matt’s crime against her.


	20. Confrontation II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out what happens to Matt. Karen and Foggy attempt to save the day. 
> 
> Warning for this chapter: Graphic depictions of violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I AM TRASH AND HAVE NOT UPDATED IN ENTIRELY TOO LONG. I am so sorry for the delay. The school year started up again and it turns out your final year of uni is completely batshit insane with work, homework, job applications, applying to graduate, and basically adulting got in my way. 
> 
> But my fellow fic princess, hermadnessmac and I have set up regular writing dates during the week. I've gotten a start on chapter 21 and ideally I'll publish that a week from today. In the meantime, here's some excitement and generalized craziness.

Matt wrinkled his nose. The scent of sewage was overwhelming. He tried to sit up, but his lack of balance and inability to throw his hands out to catch himself told him his hands and feet were bound. 

"I do know where I am, you know," he said, and immediately winced at how weak his voice sounded.

"I didn't intend for it to be a secret," Vanessa snapped. Matt coughed, leaving it up to her to discern whether it was due to the feeling of compression remaining in his throat after being choked, or if he was feeling sarcastic. He hoped the latter would be communicated. Matt took a deep breath in and focused on his surroundings. 

The first feeling was metal beneath his cheek. He could taste the sharpness of the bridge’s structure beneath him, and felt it vibrate and shake slightly as Vanessa’s bodyguard paced up and down to his right. The man’s scent of dirt and something vaguely fungal felt further away than Vanessa’s carefully cultivated rose smell. He focused on that for a moment, and wrinkled his nose again. 

“Ever thought about lightening up on the rose perfume?” he asked her, trying to get a sense of what she was doing. Vanessa scoffed, and fished a hand in each of his back pockets, withdrawing his main phone. Matt’s heart picked up its pace, but his burner was still tucked safely away in an interior pocket. 

“Just in case,” she breathed in his ear as she withdrew. She maintained her position on his right side, and said something to the bodyguard. Matt couldn’t make it out because he was focused on figuring out who was to his left, as his awareness had sharply shifted to a third body. 

“Ritz?” he asked. 

“Don’t,” Ritz warned him. Matt bit the inside of his cheeks. There was an edge to Ritz’s voice, but it was razor-thin and wavering. 

“Whatever she’s threatening you with,” Matt spoke quickly, “whatever she’s got on you, I can help you. Let me help you, Ritz. You’re better than this, you-” but before he could finish Ritz had kicked him in the ribs, knocking the breath from his lungs. 

“I said, don’t,” Ritz repeated himself, but this time it was a low hiss in Matt’s ear. Matt gritted his teeth and curled around the blooming pain in his ribcage, trying to will it to go away. Vanessa’s clicking footsteps edged closer to him. 

“You are going to atone properly for how you ruined my life,” she informed him. “You’re already aware that this is the site where Wilson Fisk was arrested and ripped from me while I was in my most vulnerable state. The fact that you had the audacity to take my child with you is really the icing on the goddamn cake.” 

Matt strained against his bonds, and swung his body around to make whatever contact with Vanessa he could. Vanessa stopped him by stepping on his legs, digging her heel painfully into his calf muscle. 

“The abandonment was bad enough,” she said softly, “but it’s the humiliation that demands the strongest recourse. There is no one on earth who deserves to have _my child_ , least of all you,” she spat. Matt felt his pants rip and a thin stream of blood rise from his leg as she dug in deeper. He bit his lip to hold back the grunt of pain. “This is where you will die,” she continued, removing her heel from his calf and wiping on the metal it with a sound that made his teeth grind involuntarily. 

There was a moment of silence in which Matt assumed she was making some sort of gesture at Ritz, but then he didn’t have the brain space to assume anything else because a thick, scratchy rope closed around his neck. 

__________________________________________________

Foggy and Karen approached the two buildings with the rickety bridge between them. Foggy could hear the distant voices talking about god knew what, all he did know was that Matt was up there and he couldn’t hear Matt’s voice, and God, if the last time he heard Matt’s voice was warning him about telling him where he was then he would never forgive himself-

“Foggy!” Karen was saying. Foggy started, realizing he had been staring fixedly at one place on the brick wall of the building and not actually moving. 

“I’m ready,” he said stupidly. “I know.” 

“Are you though?” Karen was eyeing him critically. 

“I’m worried,” he said truthfully. 

“I know you are,” she said, patting his shoulder. She sounded as nervous as he was. Before he was able to say anything else, Karen had patted her side to check for something, and had darted out of sight. Foggy inhaled deeply. They had a plan. They needed to stick to the plan. He crept around the corner of the building and did his best not to freeze once the bridge was in sight. Vanessa was saying something to Matt, and didn’t seem to notice his approach. Foggy quickly zeroed in on the thick rope around Matt’s neck, and ran towards the fire escape stairs that led up to the rickety bridge. 

Ritz noticed him first. The man moved to block the top of the stairs, and Foggy panicked and cried out. 

“Matt!” he screamed. Matt’s head whipped around towards him, and Foggy thought he saw something akin to terror flash across Matt’s face when he realized who was calling for him. The brunette struggled mightily against his bonds, but was quickly stopped by Vanessa. Foggy raced up the fire escape steps. Ritz moved to meet him, and Foggy barely made it up the steps before everything began to happen all too fast. 

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the air and Foggy winced at the sickening sound of lead crashing into bone and shattering it. He saw Vanessa crumple clutching her leg out of the corner of his eye, and felt a surge of hope that maybe, by some miracle, they would get out of this alive. Matt’s prone figure struggled further and leapt up as the bodyguard rushed to tend to Vanessa. Foggy swung wildly at Ritz, the occasional punch actually making contact and his terrified darting around actually managing to avoid the bulk of Ritz’s blows. 

The action stopped for a split second as Foggy heard a scream and the terrible sound of bone crunching against the pavement below them. In this brief moment of respite, he chanced a glance over the side of the rickety bridge. Matt appeared to have thrown the bodyguard over the bridge and removed the rope from around his neck. The guard appeared to be incapacitated on the ground, and Foggy felt a manic surge of joy at this development. Matt closed the distance between them in a single bound, landing a terrific blow to Ritz’s head that made him stumble, though only briefly. 

Foggy continued landing as many punches as he could manage, ignoring the growing throbbing sensation in his fists. He had a vague feeling that Matt was doing considerably more damage and was desperately grateful for his crazed ninja in a mask. 

Ritz stumbled again, and Foggy stopped trying to punch him in time only to watch him tumble over the edge of the bridge and land with a distant, resonating crack. Foggy felt his breath go out of him in one powerful exhale. One more person down. Matt immediately closed the gap between the two of them and reached for Foggy’s face. 

“Are you okay?” he asked gruffly, cupping Foggy’s face in one hand while the other probed his face for wounds. He found one at the top of Foggy’s head and brushed away a thin stream of blood. 

“I’m fine,” Foggy reassured him, raising an absent hand to cover Matt’s at the top of his head.

“Karen can do stitches,” Matt said. “Let’s get out of here.” 

“Oh no you don’t,” Vanessa’s hoarse voice came out of nowhere, and Foggy suddenly became acutely aware that she was pressing the barrel of her gun into Matt’s shoulder, her weight leaning heavily on her uninjured leg. His heart rate picked up immediately, and he stared around wildly for Karen while Matt was frozen in place. She was behind Vanessa, moving slowly to get closer to her without Vanessa noticing. 

“Vanessa, I-” began Foggy, but he was cut off by the sound of a bullet exploding from Vanessa’s gun and slamming through Matt’s shoulder with a deafening crack. Instinctively, he ducked, but not fast enough to avoid the bullet grazing his shoulder. 

Matt sank to the ground, mouth falling open in a wordless expression of pain. Foggy rushed to his side to put pressure on the wound, his eyes darting upwards to be sure that another bullet wasn’t about to issue from Vanessa’s gun. Instead of staring down the barrel of a gun, he looked up to find Vanessa in a chokehold courtesy of one Karen Page. Karen had her gun pressed against Vanessa’s temple. Foggy gulped.

“Drop it,” Karen hissed at Vanessa. “Drop it.” Vanessa opened her mouth to try to say something, but Karen just tightened her grip around Vanessa’s neck. Vanessa dropped the gun and raised a hand to try to force her way out of Karen’s grip. Karen stumbled slightly, but adjusted her stance and redoubled her grip. Vanessa gasped, and Foggy swore he could see a blue tinge creeping up her complexion. 

“Karen,” Foggy said, his voice shaking. But Karen wasn’t listening. Once she appeared to have Vanessa in a satisfactory enough hold, she lowered the gun from Vanessa’s temple. Foggy exhaled, hoping the worst was over. But for the third time that evening, a shot rang out followed by an ear-splitting scream from Vanessa. She crumpled to the ground, clutching a bloody knee. 

Before Foggy could say anything else, Karen had shot out Vanessa’s other knee and Vanessa had dissolved into heaving sobs intermingled with screams of renewed pain. Karen’s gun was now pointed at Vanessa’s head. 

“Karen,” Foggy said, unable to stop his voice from shaking now. “Karen, no. Stop.” He dared not move his hands from staunching the flow of blood from Matt’s shoulder. “Karen,” he pleaded again. Karen’s eyes were fixed on Vanessa’s head, where her gun was pointing. Foggy bit his lip. A moment passed that contained an eternity, and Karen finally lowered the gun. 

Matt began to stir as police sirens sounded in the distance.


	21. What happens in the silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the fight at the bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fic is slowly coming to an end......I'm sorry I haven't been more regular on this side of the fic. I appreciate all ya'll who have stuck with me. There will be an epilogue coming, full of fluff and happiness to leave ya'll on a good note. <3
> 
> come find me on [tumblr](http://www.ecologistsarealwaysfine.tumblr.com), let's cry about daredevil together.

The familiar sounds of his apartment, and of Foggy cursing under his breath at the toaster, woke Matt. He sat up, realizing he had been sprawled out on the couch for quite some time. Karen was talking in a soothing undertone to Dolly, who was chatting animatedly back. Matt yawned hugely and sat up, propping himself up with a few of the spare pillows.

“We didn’t get arrested?” he asked stupidly, still trying to shake off residual exhaustion and wincing at the sharp pain in his shoulder. Karen chuckled darkly at this. She brought Dolly over and sat next to Matt on the couch. 

“For now, no,” she answered him. 

“Daddy,” Dolly told him importantly. 

“Yes, sweetheart,” Matt held out his arms, and Karen deposited his--well, his _daughter_ in his lap. His daughter. He supposed that was permanent now. She snuggled up against his chest and laid her head right over his heart, as if she was listening to ensure it was still beating. 

Matt felt a lump rise in his throat at this gesture of affection and bent to kiss the top of her head. Something swelled in his chest, something that tentatively told him maybe everything had been worth it. Because Dolly was worth it. It was a small flame of hope, but it was there. 

“Foggy got us off on self-defense,” Karen went on. “Vanessa is in critical care, and--” she paused for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. “Well. We know what happened to Ritz and the henchman.” 

Matt felt a swooping sensation in his stomach that extinguished the flame. He didn’t know what he expected when he pushed someone over the bridge. Two someones. But after all his vocal promises never to kill, the reality of what he had done was still stark and horrifying. 

Dolly reached up and jabbed her little fingers in his face. 

“Daddy sad,” she said solemnly.

“You learned a new word,” Matt bit his tongue to keep the lump in his throat from spilling over. Dolly patted his cheek and Matt felt her tiny lips brush his chin. 

“She’s been very into giving kisses today,” Karen remarked, and her voice also sounded thick. 

“Remember how I said I would never be that clichéd person who said children are more perceptive than we give them credit for?” Matt was forcing the words out, trying to to have something to do other than just sob brokenly. 

 

“I don’t remember you saying that,” Karen had moved closer to him on the couch and was slipping an arm around his shoulder. Matt remained stiff, focusing on Dolly in his lap, on the warm weight of her, on her explicit trust in him to never have anything other than her best interests at heart. 

A trust he had no idea what to do with, given that he could almost certainly never fulfill it. The last 24 hours had proven that. Karen brushed her thumb up and down on Matt’s shoulder, a soothing gesture that broke his resolve and made the tears come freely. 

Karen guided his head onto her shoulder, and he turned his face into the fabric of her shirt to muffle the sound of his sobs. Foggy’s heavy footsteps padded closer to the pair of them, set something down on the coffee table, and sat on Matt’s other side. 

Another arm snaked around his shoulder. Foggy put his head on Matt’s shoulder, whispering barely audible comforts into Matt’s neck, interspersed with feather-light kisses meant to calm him down. Dolly turned around to wrap her tiny arms around as much of Matt’s waist as she could and laid her head down on his chest. 

Several minutes passed before Matt had exhausted the bottled up emotion in his chest and had dissolved into heaving sighs against Karen’s shoulder. She kept up her affectionate touch, brushing a hand through his hair occasionally and dropping a kiss on top of his head in what struck Matt as a protective manner. 

Foggy had taken one of Matt’s hands and was massaging the palm in steady, circular motions that was giving Matt a reference point from which to breathe normally. 

“Daddy sad?” It was a question this time, from his daughter who was never afraid to break the silence. She wriggled into a better seated position and reached for Matt’s stubbly chin. He lifted his head from Karen’s shoulder, causing the other two to sit up in response.

“Not as much now, sweetheart.” He reached for her tiny face and kissed the top of her head. He then held out both of his hands for Foggy and Karen to squeeze in what he hoped was a “thank you”, gesture, a “I don’t know how to put into words what you are to me” gesture. The sincerity in their grip seemed to communicate their understanding. 

“The toast is a little cold, but it’s probably still good.” Foggy leaned forward and then back again, handing Matt a ceramic plate. Dolly swatted at the plate, interested in what was on it. Matt felt her weight lift from his lap as Foggy swiped her away. “We’ll get something else for you, missy,” he told her, and padded back over to the kitchen. 

Karen took one of Matt’s hands. “It’s going to work out,” she told him.

“You can’t know that.” Matt didn’t withdraw his hand.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “I do know that Vanessa won’t bother us for awhile now. I do know we won’t need to deal with another trial for the time being, unless the investigators change their mind about Ritz and the henchman.” 

“They won’t.” Matt knew something darker had entered his voice, and he didn’t try to hide it. Someone had to take up a stronger mantle of protection. 

“You won’t do anything to convince them.” Karen’s tone was suddenly sharp.

“You’re not afraid for your own safety?” Matt tightened his grip on Karen’s hand. She had to understand what was at risk. “You’re not afraid someone will find out what we did, who you shot, and will link you back to Westley? You’re not afraid of _any_ of those things? Because you should be.” He wanted her to understand the gravity of the risks they were facing. She seemed to not care for her own safety. 

Silence. Karen’s hand went limp momentarily in his. 

“I’m afraid all the time, Matthew.” She deliberated before speaking again. “All the time. It hasn’t left me since Westley, and it’s always there. A constant spectre following just behind me and two steps ahead, always around the next corner. I can’t avoid it, and I have stopped trying.” The note of raw honesty in her voice told him he had overstepped. 

“I’m sorry,” Matt said, his voice low. “I shouldn’t have snapped.” Foggy was padding his way back over to the seating area, Dolly toddling behind him, whining about the food he had in his hands. Dolly’s satisfied pseudo-chewing (Matt estimated she maybe had 2-3 teeth by this point) moments later told him Foggy was helping her eat some oatmeal. 

“It’s alright,” Karen told him, her tone dignified. She withdrew her hand from Matt’s and leaned back, her weight creating a slight depression in the pillows behind Matt. 

She sounded sincere enough, but still, Matt wondered. Something had shifted in Karen after she had killed Westley. Something had hardened in her; allowed her to shoot Vanessa’s henchman and nearly kill Vanessa as well. Whatever it was that had made her this way, Matt was apprehensive about it. 

_Like you’re much better, throwing them both over the bridge._ The small voice rose in the back of Matt’s mind, and he tried to push it away. But the thought only gained traction as he entertained it, bringing up a list of people whose deaths he was probably responsible for, and people whose serious (perhaps lifelong debilitating) injuries had fallen on his shoulders. 

_I was fighting back_ , he told himself. _Stemming the tide. For the greater good. For this city. And for my family_. 

_Sure,_ the voice agreed, _but at what cost?_. 

This was a question Matt was afraid to answer.


	22. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wonderful people have been very patient with me. Have an epilogue with some smut and feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this took forever. Partly because I didn't want this story to end. Partly because writing smut is hard and I want it to be good. Partly because my life got crazy once I started my senior year of uni...things have been really different since I came back to the US after living abroad for a year. But season 2 is out, and I promise you some less angsty fic in the future. Well who am I kidding angst will come. But I'm gonna write a coffee shop AU pretty soon. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me. Your love and comments keep me going.

The morning dawned pink and brilliant around Foggy and Matt. Matt’s hands gripped Foggy’s hips, nearly tight enough to leave bruises, but Foggy didn’t care. The quiet mornings like this one, where he rode Matt slowly and deliberately and the pleasure came in gradual rollers that collapsed over Foggy one by one almost made it feel like the worst of the past year hadn’t happened. The biggest wave was on its way, but it hadn’t arrived just yet. 

“God, Foggy,” Matt groaned, his voice still scratchy with early-morning sleepiness. 

“Just like that,” Foggy breathed, and then gasped as Matt found a good angle that brushed right by his prostate. Matt seemed to notice the change in Foggy’s breathing patterns, and flipped him over with something that sounded like a growl. 

“Right there,” Foggy gasped as Matt drove into him again and again, making the waves of pleasure come faster and faster until they grew into a goddamn tidal wave that threatened to drown Foggy where he lay. 

But before he could disappear completely into oblivion, Matt pulled him back from the edge with stabilizing kisses and gentle caresses of his thumb, pushing back Foggy’s hair that was sticking to his sweaty forehead. 

“I love you,” Matt said. Foggy looked up into Matt’s unseeing, but somehow still affectionate eyes. His brows were knit, as if he couldn’t quite decide if he meant the words he was saying. 

“I love you too, Matty,” Foggy told him. He wove his fingers into Matt’s hair and tugged his head closer to his own. 

Before their lips could meet, Foggy redirected and planted the smallest kiss he could on the tip of Matt’s nose. “I love every part of you,” he went on, kissing each of Matt’s cheeks. “I love your light and your sunshine and I love your inky darkness.” He moved on to Matt's jawbone and hummed with the shape and firmness of it beneath his mouth. Matt swallowed and his eyes fluttered shut at the contact. 

"You don't mean that," He mumbled. "You can't mean that." Foggy stopped and drew back. 

"Of course I mean it," Foggy breathed, unable to suppress a gasp as Matt shifted beneath him. 

“I’ve never been--” Matt thrusted slowly into Foggy as if that would help him think when it clearly had the opposite effect. His mouth went slack for a moment and Foggy wanted to kiss the doubt right out of him, but Matt looked like he wanted to keep talking. 

“You’re going to need to finish that sentence, Murdock,” Foggy panted, “because I can’t focus when you’re going so--damn-- _slow_.” He arched involuntarily, trying to get more movement.   
“You’re the sunshine,” Matt nearly slurred. “I’m not anything more than darkness and deadweight and _God,_ you feel so good.” 

Foggy’s heart physically ached for Matt. Either that or it was getting exhausted from this boy being such a damn tease. His train of thought quickly fell off the rails as Matt picked up the pace and sent them both over the edge. Once they had resurfaced and cleaned up a little, Foggy laid on his ample stomach and looked at Matt. 

“You’re an excellent father, Matty.” 

“Stop, Foggy.” Matt was biting the insides of his cheeks. 

“You are,” Foggy insisted, taking Matt’s hands into his own and pulling himself up into a seated position. “You’re an excellent father, an amazing friend, and one hell of a good lay, if I may be so bold as to comment on the matter.” 

Matt laughed in spite of himself. “You don’t have to let me fish for compliments.” 

“Oh you fish for them a lot, but I’m happy to dish them out. You have to know that you aren’t a waste of space, Matthew.” Foggy’s voice dropped to a lower, more serious register. 

“I wasn’t--” Matt began.

“Like hell you weren’t.” Foggy was fierce. “I know you better than you think, and you’ve been in a pit since the incident on the bridge.” 

“People _died_ , Foggy.”

“People die every day and it’s a fucking tragedy because human life is the most precious thing and it’s something we’ll never be able to stop losing but we’ll spend our lives trying to anyways. You’re not the only one with regrets, Matt.” Foggy was kneading circles into Matt’s palm and talking directly to it. 

“Sorry,” Matt said after a moment.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Foggy told Matt’s hand. Matt was biting the inside of his cheek again. Foggy leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips to get him to stop. “Maybe just believe me once in awhile when I tell you things that are true about yourself.” 

Matt sat up and traced a finger down Foggy’s jaw. Foggy couldn’t tear his eyes from Matt’s. 

“Okay,” Matt said. “Okay.” 

Foggy would take it. There was more he wanted to say, much more he wanted to make Matt believe, but Dolly’s voice was floating into their room over the baby monitor. Their daughter was calling.


End file.
